


Scourge

by liziscribbles



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Actually more like plagas, Alternate Universe - Zombies, BAMF!Prompto, Halloween 2017, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Multi, Prompto gets to play hero for once, Resident Evil AU, lots of guns go boom and things go splode, the later RE-style zambles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-19 13:41:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 83,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11898930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liziscribbles/pseuds/liziscribbles
Summary: Prince Noctis is missing.What started out as a treaty signing quickly went bad when a crazed Nifilian citizen surged forth to attack King Regis.  In the ensuing melee, everyone escaped, except for Prince Noctis.  Now, his personal bodyguards, Prompto Argentum and Gladiolus Amicitia, are forced to leave Lucis and search for him.In the search, they uncover some pretty nasty secrets, andnotjust about the Niffs.





	1. Landing

**Author's Note:**

> No matter how many times I post new fic, it's always super nervewracking. XD

Planes were nothing but giant, flying, deathtraps. At least that was what Prompto Argentum thought as he clung to the straps of his harness in the giant, black, military plane that General Amicitia had sent them off in. Commercial planes were fine. Prompto didn't mind sitting in commercial planes and looking out the window over the clouds as they passed by. Military planes, though? Being strapped into a harness like some kind of crazy person, and jostled around every single time the plane made a move? That was less than fun. Not to _mention_ when they hit turbulence. The few times he'd done it in his life, he'd never, _ever_ enjoyed it. He never would, probably.

How Gladio could sit casually on his right, reading the mission file for the hundred thousandth time, was a mystery to him. Well, okay, it wasn't. Not really. Gladio had grown up with his dad _running_ the Lucian military. Being around planes and tanks and whatever else was pretty much old hat for him. Just a part of life. Most of the time, people thought that he _was_ military. He wasn't, though. _They_ weren't. No, instead Prompto and Gladio were Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum's personal retinue of bodyguards. It was great. A dream job. Working to protect his best friend from anyone who wanted to harm him. 

Anyone could really boast that they'd be willing to do the same, and Prompto was getting paid for it. Handsomely, at that. The easiest and most rewarding job he'd ever heard of, really. At least, that's what Prompto wanted to say. The truth of the matter, though, was that he'd only been on the job for a matter of twenty-four hours when Noctis went missing. The treaty signing was supposed to be pretty routine. A routine ceremony to end a conflict that had been simmering for decades. Centuries. Despite that, the politicians from Niflheim had been a pretty ominous presence on the streets of Insomnia for the past couple of weeks leading up to the ceremony, and all of the interviews had pretty much left no question as to the fact that the trust between the two nations was really, really tentative. King Regis Lucis Caelum didn't trust Emperor Aldercapt as far as he could throw him, and the same could easily be said vice versa. Whatever mistrust had been thrown about, though, no one in Lucis expected the result.

At the treaty signing, Regis, Noctis, and their team sat on one side of the table, Aldercapt, his chancellor—an oily, snakelike man named Ardyn Izunia—sat to his left, and a team of heavily armed soldiers stood on either side of the room. Prompto and Gladio were relegated to wait by the door, alongside General Amicitia and Marshal Leonis. It was odd, but probably some kind of show of good faith, that Aldercapt had _his_ bodyguards—a pair of guards clad in robes that completely covered their faces in shadow—standing right behind him.

The treaty was never signed.

Prompto still wasn't sure where the attack started from. No shots were fired or anything. It wasn't as though someone immediately opened up on the room. From behind Aldercapt, one of the soldiers leaped forward, shooting across the table with blinding speed. Speed Prompto could say he had, but no one else he knew. He lunged at the King, and refused to be stopped, no matter what anyone did.

No matter how many shots were fired on the soldier, he didn't seem to want to stop. Prompto himself remembered firing at least two. Gladio fired four. Three from General Amicitia, and a pair from the Marshal, as well. It was a hard right hook from the King himself that finally got the soldier to stop in his advance. By then, it was too late. The whole room was in a panic. Chancellor Izunia escorted Emperor Aldercapt from the room—Prompto _tried_ not to notice the calm that the two men were projecting, but it was very much there—and all of the soldiers and politicians in the room panicked, immediately rushing into combat mode. Shots flew from all directions—Prompto was grazed twice, injuries that had long since healed over—and people rushed in a desperate attempt to get out of the combat.

Most people, anyway. General Amicitia and Marshal Leonis immediately busied themselves with getting King Regis to safety, and Gladio and Prompto _tried_ to do the same for Noctis.

Tried being the operative term. Prompto made it through the panicking crowd before Gladio, using his smaller size to his advantage. When he reached the table, though, and got to Noctis' chair, he was horrified to find that the Prince—his best friend—was already gone. For a short time—the time it took them to get from the conference room to King Regis' office—Prompto and Gladio allowed themselves to believe that he'd escaped on his own. Noctis was hardly helpless. For years, he and Prompto had trained in hand to hand combat together, and Prompto knew that Noctis was more than capable of firing a shot to protect himself, too. If he had a gun.

When they got there, though, and he wasn't there, that was when the reality of the situation set in. Noctis wasn't in the office. Noctis wasn't in his room. Noctis wasn't _anywhere_ in the Citadel. In fact, Noctis wasn't even answering his phone to tell them that, wherever he was, he was in one piece.

The only update they'd gotten in the past twenty-four hours was via an anonymous note left in red stationery on King Regis' desk in the middle of the night, informing him that the last the anonymous person was aware, Noctis was in Ulwaat. Just outside of Tenebrae.

And that was why Prompto and Gladio were in the air, flying over the Sathersea. They had to stop in Altissia, the pilot said, because any closer and they ran a very real risk of being shot down in the air. Everything that happened at the treaty signing put relations on a very fast downward slope between Niflheim and Lucis. Before they'd left, Prompto remembered hearing Marshal Leonis say that it was expected to escalate to full-blown war in no time. Full blown war, a missing prince, and Prompto and Gladio had to abandon ship to go and look for him.

Well, had to wasn't fair. As much as Prompto _wanted_ to help plan for what was to come, there was nowhere he'd rather have been than looking for Noctis when he was in danger. Well, maybe that was a stretch. He'd _rather_ have been vacationing in Galdin Quay, or at the private cabin that King Regis had loaned to him and Noctis on Cape Caem. But, with Noctis in danger, there was no chance whatsoever that he'd willingly go anywhere else.

Except maybe traveling by boat instead of by plane.

Gladio handed the mission file over to Prompto. "Here," he commanded. "According to my old man, there's gonna be a pair of four wheelers waiting for us outside of Altissia, to get us to Ulwaat. First Secretary Claustra said she couldn't really help beyond that and giving us a safe place to touch down."

"S'all we need, isn't it?" Prompto asked, as he glanced down at the file. "I mean, we're not like... secret service, but you've got survival skills and I'm..." He paused, chuckled, and looked at Gladio with a slightly cocky grin on his face. "Well, I'm not the easiest person in the world to kill. So, we get to Ulwaat, get Noct, get out, get him home, and everything's alright." As sure as he wanted to sound, his voice fell a little short.

All the same, Gladio huffed a soft laugh. "Glad you're keepin' your spirits up," he murmured.

Prompto shrugged. "No choice. It's either keep my spirits up and have a smile on my face when I see Noct again, or worry the whole time, an' make him worry when we finally see him." He shrugged one shoulder.

"Good attitude," called a voice from the other side of the plane.

Nyx Ulric, the Captain of Marshal Leonis' Alpha Team, looked at Prompto with a little grin. His team had also been dispatched on this flight, to go to other parts of Accordo and assess the other parts of the nation that may have been affected by Niflheim's apparent refusal to broker peace. Their attacks, Prompto figured, were the real reason that Secretary Claustra couldn't give them much more help than she already was. 'One group takes a hand away, another offers one. That's how you assure a loyal ally.' That was what Prompto had heard General Amicitia say, and it honestly made sense. As much as _any_ of this made sense, anyway.

Wearing a kind smile and sitting beside Nyx was Combat Medic Lunafreya Ulric, his wife of four years and, obviously, his team's medic. She nodded her agreement. "Indeed. Noctis hardly needs his best friend to be sulky and grumpy when he's rescued. He does well enough with that on his own."

Prompto chuckled softly at that. "I'll tell him you said that," he shot a quick finger gun at her.

"You won't need to!" Yet another of the members of Nyx's team, Gladio's younger sister Iris, smirked from a couple of seats down. "We've all drilled Noct's Emo Pants McGee nature into his mind for years now. I'd be more worried if he didn't know by now!" 

The last of the four, the team's explosives specialist, Crowe Altius, rolled her eyes. "You kidding me? Yeah, he knows he belongs in one of those sissy pants emo bands. I tell him all the time. He doesn't know _how_ bad he is, though. Dresses all in black. Acts like it's the end of the world when something goes wrong. He's one emo trope away from a Fall Out Boy song, so he'd _better_ know it." She sounded annoyed, but the grin she quirked showed that she _really_ wasn't. She always teased Noctis. It was just what she did.

As Prompto glanced back down to the file, his smile wilted just a little bit. Ulwaat. Before Noctis could be a part of this conversation again, Prompto and Gladio needed to rescue him. Breathing a heavy sigh, he opened the file and looked it over. There wasn't a whole lot there, honestly. Bits of information about the climate around this time of year, what plants were and weren't safe to eat if they found themselves in a pinch, plants and herbs that could be used medicinally, locations of interest that could have been where Noctis was being held. Useful information. Things he wanted to have on the go. He took his phone out and snapped a few pictures of each page.

"Here," Prompto said when he was finished, offering the file back to Gladio.

When Gladio accepted the folder, he slid it out of Prompto's hand a little too quickly as the plane hit some turbulence. The edge of the folder sliced against the skin on his palm, creating a pretty deep cut. Prompto couldn't help a little hiss, as the slight bit of pain that went with tiny little skin slices like that coursed its way through his hand. It was a mild pain—he'd done worse to himself, both by accident, and on purpose when his abilities first started showing themselves—and he blinked down at it as a tiny bit of blood pooled around the open flesh.

To a group of outsiders, it probably would have been concerning that no one rushed to his aid. To Prompto, though, it was no big deal. They all knew that he'd be fine. Absolutely fine, actually, and far quicker than most other people probably would have been. In fact, in the short amount of time between when Gladio took the folder and when he noticed the tiny bit of Prompto's blood on the edge of the manila, the tingle that came with the mending of flesh had already begun to course through his body.

Seconds later, it was like nothing had ever happened.

"You alright, Prompto?" Gladio asked. "I mean, I know you are. But... just makin' sure I didn't accidentally lop part of your hand off."

Prompto laughed a soft note. "Nah. I'm good." He raised his hand to display it to Gladio, the only sign that there had ever really been anything wrong to begin with being the droplets of blood that made their way down his palm and onto his pant leg. "Little messy now, but good," he added with a soft chuckle.

A breath of laughter, barely audible over the loud noises that came from the plane's engine, came from across the way. Crowe shook her head. "Seen it a million times, and it still takes me by surprise every single one," she murmured as she caught Prompto's eye.

It wasn't meant to be offensive or hurtful, Prompto knew it wasn't. No one ever meant things that way. Considering that no one in Lucis knew, really, where this skill—if people chose to call it that—came from? It was hard not to be stung a little bit every time someone said something about it. The fact of the matter was, though, that no matter the wound, minor or grave, somehow, some _way_ , Prompto had been blessed (or cursed, depending on the outlook) with the ability to heal from it within minutes. As a teenager, when he first discovered the ability, he'd done pretty extensive testing. Testing that involved jumping from the rooves of small buildings in the Citadel, or running through fields of wild roses, filled with barbs and thorns. Tests and things that no sane child would probably have done.

He'd broken bones, ended up with dozens and dozens of deep cuts that probably would have ended with most people bleeding out; once he'd even had a piece of metal _through_ his torso. Nothing ever lasted. The times when shrapnel ended up inside of him were the worst. Those took time to heal, and getting the shrapnel out was always a chore, because surgeons had to hold wounds open so that they didn't heal mid-surgery. Every injury he'd ever received, though, healed within a matter of minutes. Sometimes, he wondered if he was even human. Sometimes, he wondered if some alien race had dropped him from the sky and told him to assimilate into human culture. It honestly wouldn't have surprised him.

Except, he was human. At least as far as he knew. He had all human parts and all human emotions. The only thing that doctors said was odd about him was something 'strange' in his blood. Something that they couldn't identify. Since it didn't harm him—since it had _never_ harmed him, only helped him—they cast it aside as unimportant.

As worrisome as his 'talent' was, though, it was also a blessing. It made him the _perfect_ candidate to be a bodyguard for Noctis. The past two years, since he turned eighteen, he'd been training with Gladio and Marshal Leonis to do just that. Learning martial arts, learning protocols and things that he needed to know to be a proper bodyguard. The easiest was firing a weapon. According to his trainers, he'd been a natural. He'd learned and mastered most firearms quicker than any of the other trainees in his group. The hardest part of learning to be a bodyguard, though, was learning and mixing all of the different martial arts from Marshal Leonis and the Citadel's trainers. He'd managed. With his speed and dexterity, he'd managed to learn those quicker than most, too.

So, at the age of twenty, and because of his special set of skills, he was the second youngest bodyguard to ever serve a Lucian prince. The youngest, of course, being the Marshal himself. His swearing in had been just two days ago. His first day on the job, the treaty signing. And now, his second day on the job was apparently going to be a true trial by fire. It was okay. He'd get through it. They'd all get through it.

"Believe me," Prompto finally flicked his eyes up to look at Crowe, "you're not the only one."

Crowe clamped down on her lip. "Uh. S-sorry, Freckles. I don't mean to-"

Prompto shook his head and waved her apology off with an easy smile. He never let it get to him; or, at least, he never let it show. "Don't sweat it. Just one of those things I can do."

As he wiped the last of his own blood from his hands and onto his pant leg, he glanced out the small window on the other side of Iris and braced himself. Takeoffs and landings were absolutely the _worst_ parts about flying. Especially in military planes. As Prompto held tightly to the harness, he sighed hard and heavy, then sucked in and held a breath for as long as he could as he felt the plane tilt and begin to descend. Once again, he was jostled around. Once again, he clung with all of his strength to the harness that held him in place. The lower the plane crawled, though, the higher Prompto's apprehension climbed.

Yeah. They'd be fine. That much hadn't changed, as far as certainty went. Still, where was Noctis? Who had him and what were they doing to him? He couldn't be dead, obviously. Noctis was strong and smart. He wasn't the average son of a politician, weak and feeble and always needing protection from every living thing. If _anyone_ could get through being in some unknown situation, and make it through to the other side, it was Noctis.

It just meant that Prompto and Gladio had to get to him faster.

Gladio turned to him once the plane touched down, as he unfastened his harness and stood, stretching his limbs as well as he could in the tiny plane. Honestly, it was alarming that a man as large as Gladio was could even _fit_ into such a tiny plane, but he had. Prompto finally reached down, unfastening the harness and slowly standing up. Gladio laughed.

"No matter how fast you can heal, you can't heal from being a wuss about planes, there, Deadpool." The taunt was gentle, as good natured as the clap that Gladio slapped against Prompto's shoulder.

Prompto narrowed his eyes and huffed in annoyance as he stood on jelly legs and braced himself against the ceiling of the plane. "Okay, first of all, go fuck yourself," he said, raising his index finger and ticking it off as though he was counting. "Second of all? I'm not Deadpool. Cool as he is, I don't have the lasagna face, and I don't use katana. Third of all? It isn't flying I'm scared of. It's falling out of the sky in a burning ball of metal and scrap. Can you imagine what it'd be like to heal from that?" He shuddered a dramatic shudder, and listened as Iris and Crowe laughed in response. 

With a snorted laugh, Gladio shrugged. "Can't say I can, since I'm pretty sure I wouldn't heal from it," he pointed out.

"Stranger things have happened," Nyx added.

Luna hummed her agreement, too, as she gathered her large medical bag from the floor. "Indeed. For example, the attack on Lucis."

That sobered the mood completely, and Prompto could only nod a somber nod as he scratched a hand through his hair. "We'll get Noct back. You guys... you guys see if you can help get Accordo on our side, and then we'll figure out what the hell the Niffs were trying to accomplish with that stunt..." he trailed off, and looked down at the metal floor of the plane as he headed toward the door.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, a part of him wondered how true that really was. He refused to show it, though. His personal motto was to look the part of confidence, and make actual confidence follow. With that in mind, he forced his spirits back up, raised his head, and exchanged a smile with his friends. Positive attitude. Nyx and Luna had just praised him for it, so the last thing he wanted to do was show that it wasn't completely and totally genuine. With that in mind, and the slightest bit of confidence renewed by force, he stepped off the plane and into the cloudy Altissia morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, here we go again, friends. :D ♥


	2. Compromised

There was something pretty cool to be said about riding around the plains outside of Cartanica on a four wheeler. Prompto honestly felt like some kind of action hero, and maybe the description was apt enough. Driving through foreign territory, the wind whipping his hair around, nothing but a pack of supplies on his back and his partner and friend at his side, with the plan to save his best friend, the Prince? Yeah, that sounded pretty action hero to Prompto. The thought made him smirk a closed-mouth smirk as he took a wide turn around a sharply inclining hill.

Finally, he was learning to closed-mouth grin. The first four times, the bugs that hit his teeth had almost caused him to wipe out. Almost. Never quite.

As they sped across the open space in front of them, Prompto took a deep breath inward as he picked up speed. He heard Gladio's engine revving shortly behind him, and turned his head to glance at his friend, watching as he flashed Prompto a challenging smirk. A race. Really? Now? To be completely honest, he probably _shouldn't_ have gone along with it, but he'd never been one to turn down a challenge. Especially from Gladio. He revved his engine a little bit more, before picking up speed and easily catching up to where Gladio had pulled just slightly ahead of him. Another rev, and a slight press on the gas pedal, and Prompto was quickly and easily pulling ahead of Gladio.

His radar told him that the entrance to the town was a little over a mile away. A mile before he had to slow down to a manageable speed. That meant a mile worth of racing, which meant a mile that he needed to stay ahead of Gladio. Easy. He had the advantage of weighing less, so as long as he didn't showboat too much, or get too cocky, he could easily get there first. Across another dip in the plain, and Gladio had caught up to him. They were neck and neck all the way up until the last hundred or so yards, when Prompto stood from his seat and leaned forward to pick up speed. It was just a little boost, just a little increase in speed, but it was enough to have him pulling into the stretch of land that they'd deemed their scouting point _seconds_ before Gladio.

With a huff as he dismounted his ATV, Gladio raised his chin at Prompto. "Nice driving," was all he said at first. Then, after a couple more seconds, he snorted a laugh and added, "now if only you could manage to do that in a normal car. Then I wouldn't have to drive us every damn where."

Prompto rolled his eyes. "Yeah, must be rough. Getting to pick the music all the time so we're stuck listening to all those mega mullet hair bands." He dismounted his ATV too, then gathered his pack from the tray.

A familiar glint of mischief twinkled in Gladio's eye, and he shrugged his hand in the air. "For one, hair bands never go outta style. And for two? At least it's better that than hypno, or whatever the hell that music you listen to is called," he mocked, gathering his own pack and leaning down to grab his binoculars from his hip, followed by the mission file from his bag.

Rolling his eyes, Prompto's shoulders slumped. "Trance. It's called _trance_ , Gladio. This is definitely not the first time I've told you that."

"Probably won't be the last either," Gladio retorted, leaning back on his four wheeler and going over the mission file again. "So, this says the locals aren't likely to be helpful. 'Specially not if we ask 'em straight out if they've seen Noct. Most people here are imperial lackeys. Anything we tell 'em will probably find its way right back to the empire, and then we'll be in even bigger trouble."

Just like that, the switch in Prompto's mind flicked from joking to mission oriented. "Gotcha," he told Gladio, reaching for his own binoculars. "No go on help from the locals." Which, admittedly, was a pretty big wrench in the works.

Gladio nodded. "Ulwaat was one of the first places they took when they started takin' over left and right, and it was less a hostile takeover and more the leader's a fuckin' wuss and just gave the key to the city over or whatever." He flipped a couple pages. "Town's led by a guy named Drautos. There's a picture of him in the files. He's gonna be on our 'avoid at all costs' list. Guy's made some pretty openly hostile remarks about the treaty and about King Regis on multiple occasions. Pretty sure that's why King Regis was so willing to put so much trust in that anonymous note."

Nodding, Prompto took a glance at the file on his phone, looking at the picture when Gladio suggested it. Titus Drautos. The document explained that he was a former Lucian citizen who went on the run to Niflheim several years back, when Prompto was still in elementary school. Apparently, Emperor Aldercapt had given him the run of Ulwaat as a show of good faith, or something. He held some kind of grudge against Lucis; against King Regis and General Amicitia in particular. Ulwaat had gone downhill in his rule, the file told Prompto. It fell into financial ruin, and yet, for some reason, its citizens still stayed loyal to him. It wasn't surprising. The man looked like he hadn't smiled in his entire life. Prompto found himself suspecting that the guy scared people into submission.

"Scowly guy," he remarked.

Gladio laughed a humorless note. "You're tellin' me. One of my old man's personal rivals."

Humming his understanding, Prompto added, "and Noct's old man. And probably every Lucian and Accordan's old man." He was equal parts kidding and serious.

The way Gladio hummed in response told Prompto that he more or less agreed. "So, avoid him. And avoid makin' too much conversation with locals, because I'm pretty sure they'll notice that we don't sound Accordan, Tenebraen, or like Niffs."

"And stick together," Prompto suggested. "I know we can probably do it on our own and everything, but I'd rather not if I don't have to, and I'm sure you feel the same way."

Once again, Gladio grunted his agreement. "We should scout the town out from back here," he suggested, in lieu of an actual answer. "Find a high vantage point and see what the binoculars tell us." Without waiting for an answer, he turned and headed toward a short cliff face, looking up at it. "You okay with a quick free climb?" he asked Prompto.

Prompto nodded. "Did I ever tell you about the time I free-climbed the Citadel walls to get to Noct's room and convinced him to sneak out to the arcade with me?" he asked as he found a pair of footholds in the rock face. It wasn't like Gladio would do anything about it; both because he trusted Prompto at Noctis' back, and because beyond ending up with King Regis grounding Noctis, nothing had happened. Even after grounding Noctis, King Regis still didn't tell Prompto's adoptive parents.

As though proving Prompto's point, Gladio simply laughed as he started his own ascent. "No, but I heard Noct's dad talking with my old man about it," he explained, looking over at Prompto with a wry smile. "You really had him out until three in the morning?"

"I mean, yeah. We were both overworked as hell, to be fair. That Ancient Solheim Lit class was... stupid, and the final was even stupider." A fond smirk crossed Prompto's face at the memory of how they'd gone from the arcade, to the pizza place down the street, and then to the tallest roof in Insomnia, just to sit and unwind.

Gladio smirked. "Still don't know why a prince needs to know about ancient Solheim lit, to be honest," he ticked his shoulder up in a shrug.

Shrugging a shoulder, Prompto nodded. "Besides, it isn't my fault he didn't answer his phone," he mused as he climbed.

"Yeah, it is," Gladio retorted.

Prompto grunted as he reached overhead and grabbed hold of a rock, pulling himself up, and then answering, "how do you figure?" as he situated himself to climb higher.

At first, Gladio's only response was laughter, as he pulled himself up to the top of the small cliff face. Prompto knew that Gladio was a fast climber, but even _without_ the enhanced dexterity that Prompto had, he'd managed to get to the top of the cliff face before Prompto did. "You really are hopeless. Especially if you don't know, after being friends for _years_ , that Noct would pretty much take his claim the crown and throw it to the bottom of the damn ocean if you asked him to." He reached his hand down to help Prompto up.

"I wouldn't, though. He's not just the Prince to me," Prompto insisted, accepting Gladio's hand and letting his partner pull him the rest of the way up.

Gladio nodded. "And that's why he would," he replied, reaching down to his hip for his binoculars and turning his back to Prompto, closing the topic for further discussion.

It was a good thing, too, because it was really just making Prompto realize that they needed to get Noctis the hell out of here quicker. The faster they got him home, the faster things could go back to normal. The faster Noctis could be safe, and the faster Prompto would feel less like he failed at the treaty signing that day. That thought drew his lips down into a frown as he reached down for his own binoculars and walked up beside Gladio.

"See anything?" he asked.

Humming a response, Gladio adjusted the zoom and said, "look for yourself. Your eyes could probably give you a clearer picture than I can paint with words."

Prompto arched his eyebrow, but raised his binoculars as Gladio suggested. At first, it looked like a regular town. When Prompto zoomed his binoculars in just slightly, though, his jaw tightened. It wasn't a regular town. The people dressed in tattered clothing—like a torn mockery of the modern clothing that people in Lucis or Insomnia, or anywhere else in the world, wore—and literally everything he saw screamed 'labor town.' Or maybe just a farm town. Prompto had seen farms, though. He and Noctis took a trip out to the Lucian countryside a year or so back, and stopped by a chocobo farm, as well as a couple of produce farms. None of them looked quite like this.

The townspeople looked almost like they were hypnotized in a weird sort of way. They droned on, tending to really huge crops of Astrals only knew what vegetables. Others tended to sickly looking animals, while some took to fixing parts of their small houses that had fallen into disrepair. Maybe it was a farm town, but it also looked very much the part of a labor town. Like this Drautos guy had drank too much of the empire's Kool-Aid, and turned his whole town into what the empire was trying to create in Gralea.

"What the hell's going on there?" Prompto asked, lowering his binoculars and looking over at Gladio.

Gladio shrugged a shoulder, lowering his own binoculars and huffing a quiet breath. "Dunno. But if Noct _is_ here? I think we both agree that we damn well need to get him the hell out before they make him into whatever the hell subservient drones these people are."

It wasn't even a question. Prompto nodded vehemently. "So, what do we do first?" he asked. Honestly, he hated that he even had to ask, but it was still his first real mission. As much as he'd been trained, there were some things that he knew that he'd have to learn on the go. Gladio was a good teacher, though. While he hadn't been on the job for much longer than Prompto—two years wasn't _really_ that long—and he'd never really been through anything quite like _this_ before, he knew more about situational protocol than Prompto did.

Which was why Prompto wasn't surprised when he simply raised his binoculars again and took a look through the town. "We need to gather intel. Which probably means eavesdropping, which means we've gotta stay out of sight as much as possible." He breathed in heavy, scanning the area and nodding. "Alright... alright. We gotta find a back route in, and get to somewhere in town where we can radio Cindy with our intel and see what she can figure out."

It was really weird, seeing Gladio looking nervous like this. About as weird as it was to think that this really was his first real mission. Prompto didn't ever remember hearing about bodyguard duty ever taking Gladio anywhere this dangerous. So, as weird as it was, it made perfect sense. He raised his own binoculars, scanning the area for a back route into the town, and then paused when he spotted a small, barely-noticeable path through the brush that surrounded the farm area. It led around in a massive crescent, and spit out right at the very outside edge of the cliff area they were in. Up closer, it looked even further overgrown. The grass was thick and unruly, but it also provided them with even more cover if they stayed down.

"What about this?" Prompto asked Gladio, gesturing over to the path.

Gladio turned, looking the path over, and following it around to where it would spit them out, behind a large barn that was _somewhat_ away from the main group of villagers. "Well, it won't put us in sight when we come out on the other side, and I don't see any other way into the city, so... good find. Alright. I'll take p-"

Cutting Gladio off with a shake of his head, Prompto stepped forward. "Shouldn't I take point? I mean... you know? I'm not saying that you can't. Obviously. Pretty sure I don't have the rank to say that anyway, since you're _technically_ my superior. But, let's say something happens? I can-"

"You can heal easier. I know." Gladio heaved a heavy sigh and nodded his head. "You're right. Don't like it, but you're right."

Prompto didn't really like it either, to be honest. As much as he was glad to be able to keep Gladio from getting hurt, or whatever else could've possibly gone wrong here, he was still pretty nervous about screwing up. The fact of the matter was that it made the most tactical sense, though. Put the one who was almost indestructible first. Gladio could cover him. So, with that in mind, he moved toward the trail and crouched down. With a deep breath, he nodded once in self-affirmation and crept into the path. More of his 'fake it until you make it' confidence strategy put to the test. It was for Noctis, though, so he'd convince himself over and over again, as many times as he needed to.

Admittedly, crawling through the tall grass without being able to poke his head out and see how far they were from the exit was nerve-wracking enough on its own. At around the halfway point—or, at least what Prompto presumed to be around the halfway point—the sound of a loud chorus of cawing crows sounded off from several yards ahead of them. The tall grass fluttered, and from it sprang a murder of crows, consisting of about a dozen. Their cawing turned to screeches as they flew away, and the sound nearly made Prompto jump and fall over. If he wasn't clenching his jaw tightly shut, he probably would have screamed, or shouted, or something. As it stood, he just completely tensed, freezing in his tracks for a couple of seconds.

 _Some bodyguard,_ his mind taunted. _Scared of a bunch of crows. Bet Noct would laugh his ass off at you._

It probably wasn't true. Noctis would probably have been just as freaked as Prompto was. Anyone would have. Hell, a cursory glance over his shoulder told him that even _Gladio_ was. Breathing an attempt at a calming breath, Prompto turned back around and continued down the path.

He didn't make it far, before something stopped him in his tracks again.

Suddenly, he was acutely aware of why the crows were there. The smell hit his nose before he got close enough to see it. It smelled like the time he'd passed by a decomposing raccoon on his way home from school one afternoon back in middle school, only worse. Stronger. Probably because it was closer. Prompto took a couple of crawling steps further, and he realized that it was much, _much_ worse than a dead raccoon.

As soon as the corpse came into his vision, he had to hold back the urge to throw up. The person looked like they'd been torn to pieces before they died. Their arm was missing, and instead, coming out of the socket was a whole bunch of decomposing mini-tendrils. Each tendril was at least an inch long, and severed from those was a... Prompto honestly didn't know what it was. It looked almost like a scythe, but sticking out from the top of it were several of the same tendrils that came from the person's arm. Was this _connected_ to his arm? Prompto dry heaved twice, his mouth closed so that no sound escaped and alerted any of the townspeople who might have been nearby. The person—was it a person?—had been pecked to hell by the crows, and bits and pieces of his flesh and guts were spread about the area.

What in the hell had _happened_ here?

One look at Gladio showed him looking similarly horrified, as he stared wide-eyed at the corpse. He turned to look at Prompto, motioning with his hand for Prompto to take a picture of the body. As much as he _really_ didn't want that on his phone, Gladio was right. People back at home would want to know about this; would want to know what was going on. Not that either of them was really sure of that themselves, of course.

"What _is_ that?" Prompto asked, in a voice that barely even counted as a whisper.

Gladio looked from the body to Prompto, and shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know," he answered, in a voice that was just as quiet as Prompto's. "But I know it's not good."

And whatever 'not good' thing it was, it was entirely possible that Noctis was stuck in a town full of them. As sick as he felt, looking at whatever this thing was, he knew that he couldn't stick around and just be horrified by it. The longer they waited, the more chance there was that Noctis would be hurt. With that in mind, he sucked up his disgust, his horror at what he was seeing, and snapped a picture. Two pictures, from angles as different as he could get in the narrow passage of grass, and he looked to Gladio.

 _Fake it 'til you make it,_ he reminded himself again. "Keep going?" It wasn't even really a question.

Which was why, when Gladio responded with a nod, he didn't hesitate at all. Continuing along the narrow path, they both stayed low so that no one could possibly see them. Littered along the path were more limbs that looked like the dead man's scythe arm, and with each one, Prompto found himself wondering more and more, what they were sneaking into. What _Noctis_ was stuck in.

By the time they reached the end of the path, Prompto had never been quite so happy to see open air. Even as he thought that, though, as the pair of them ducked for cover in a small wood-storage shack near the mouth of the path, he couldn't help but look back at the path they'd used to get there. Was that why it was so obscured? Was it only used to dispose of dead bodies? Questions swirled around in his mind and had him leaning heavily against the wall. Not even five minutes in, and he was already sure that something sinister was going on here. He turned to look at Gladio, who was standing closer to the door, trying to listen to any conversation going on outside.

"I can't hear shit," Gladio cursed, his fist clenched tight. "We gotta get closer."

Get closer. Closer to people who had something like _that_ lying in the tall grass outside of their town. He knew in his gut that Gladio was right. In order to gather intel, they needed to get closer. To be within earshot. Prompto pushed off from where he leaned against the wall, leaning against the opposite side of the doorway and taking a quick peek outside. "It looks like we're clear to the edge of the building. I don't see anyone, so as long as we stay back, they won't see us." Right? That was how it worked.

Gladio nodded and beckoned for Prompto to follow his lead this time. It was hard to fight the instinct that told him to go first, always. He did, though. Gladio seemed determined, so he simply followed behind, keeping as much of himself in the shadows as he could while they made their way ever closer to the edge of the ramshackle house that they were using for cover. Their boots made an annoying and nerve-wracking amount of noise against the gravel beneath their feet, and Prompto begged whatever Astral may have been looking out for them to not have the villagers notice.

As it turned out, though, it wasn't the villagers that they needed to worry about. A growling noise came from several feet behind them, angry and feral-sounding. Prompto turned slowly, not wanting to spook whatever was making the noise, but before he could even make a full turn, a bellowing howl echoed out through the area, followed by a half-dozen barks of alarm. The dog looked normal; no extra limbs, and nothing really out of the ordinary, save for the excess of drool that leaked from the corner of its mouth as it growled in threat. That and its eyes. Its eyes were blood red and furious as it stared Prompto and Gladio down. Prompto clenched his hands tightly, not wanting to do anything to bring attention to them.

Until, that was, the dog lunged in Gladio's direction. Prompto didn't hesitate. He put himself between the angry canine and his friend, and when the dog's mouth came in contact with his arm, he couldn't prevent the sharp shout of "shit!" that escaped. The dog's mouth tore into his arm, ripping his flesh and dragging its teeth along, before finally separating. It left a gaping cut in its wake, and because of that, it had Prompto's blood dripping from its mouth.

Gladio reached for his pistol and fired on the dog before it could lunge again, but even with the silencer attached, it wasn't enough to muffle the sound. The dog crumpled to the ground, but just as quickly as it hit, it was back up on its feet again, growling and bellowing in alert all over again. A shot to the shoulder, like the one Gladio fired, should have at least been enough to stagger it for more than a couple of seconds, but that was very much not the case.

At the first unfamiliar voice shouting "over here! Behind the house!" Prompto became acutely aware of how much trouble they were in.

"This way," he whisper-shouted to Gladio, motioning back the way they came. "Maybe we can make it back to the grass path and-"

Before he could make it a single step, though, he realized exactly how impossible that was, too. The first of the townspeople appeared in his periphery, carrying a large gardening scythe in his hand more like a weapon than an actual gardening tool. Prompto blinked. "Gladio! We gotta run!" Where, he didn't know. But somewhere. Somewhere that wasn't here.

"Yeah. This way, back outside of town! We might have to regroup and-"

Except, before Gladio could even finish his sentence, a large, steel gate that led toward the town's exit slammed closed. The sound of the giant metal bar locking into place rang out into the air like a gunshot, almost, and that was when Prompto realized that there was absolutely no turning back; absolutely no way out. They were stuck, surrounded, and in a whole world of trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♥♥ Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!


	3. Village

Gladio had heard many things about many missions from many people. Never, though, in any of the things that he'd heard from his dad or from Cor or from _anyone_ , really, had he heard of a mission going completely and totally tits up in a matter of five minutes. Seriously, there was a chance that Prompto might be able to make it out of this in one piece, but Gladio? Probably not. Villagers closed in from all directions, that damn dog was still growling away, and Gladio was realizing that they were pretty well fucked.

"We're not gonna get out of here without firing a few shots, Prompto," Gladio pointed out.

Prompto nodded, reaching for the gun on his right shoulder holster. Gladio understood the hesitation, honestly. His own first kill had been a really harrowing experience. Some assassin sent by someone who wanted to take down the Lucian monarchy, and decided to hit Uncle Regis where it hurt first to go after his son. The guy was a madman. He came at Noct brandishing a crossbow, and aimed right at Noct's head. Gladio had to make a split second decision that day, and whether or not the man actually would've shot, _Gladio_ didn't hesitate. As much as he wanted to say that he'd never regretted it once, regret had come. Later on that night, he'd had a long talk with his dad about what _his_ first kill had been like. It both made him feel better and worse. At least, though, he'd saved Noct's life. And that was what he was working this job for.

As much as he wished that it probably wasn't going to come down to a similar situation for Prompto, the realization was rapidly coming that it might actually be worse. Gladio's first kill had been one person. Prompto would be lucky to make it out of here with one or two under his belt. It would be alright. Gladio would be sure he knew that he did the right thing. That he'd only done what he had to do. Sometimes, it came down to kill or be killed. He knew that Prompto didn't want to be killed. Especially not before he got to see Noct again.

The villagers just kept coming. Their steps were slow and deliberate, almost like they were taunting prey that they found in some sick human-versus-human hunting ground. Each villager held their tools as a weapon; everything from the obvious gardening and farming tools, to things like kitchen knives, which made Gladio realize that their people had come from inside, just to get in on whatever flaying they had planned. Gladio took aim at one of the villagers, a silent final warning, and he watched as Prompto did the same.

Before either of them could fire, and almost out of nowhere, a shot rang out in the distance—way too far away to have come from Prompto—and with a sickening crack, a villager's head exploded. Blood splatted out and came into contact with Gladio's cheek, and he couldn't help but give off a subtle wince. He didn't lower his gun, though; didn't show any other sign of weakness. Prompto, on the other hand, was visibly shaken. Especially after the villager continued to walk two steps before finally falling to its knees and then to the ground, pouring blood on the dirt around them.

Gladio could console him later. For now, it came down to a matter of figuring out how to cut a path through the closing villagers and then, maybe, figuring out where in the hell that shot came from. A second shot rang out, hitting another villager and sailing clean through his neck. It came out through the man's throat, and he instantly crumpled to the ground, pouring blood and widening the puddle that had already started to form around the first villager.

The remaining villagers started to take notice, and most of them turned to look for where the intrusion had come from. Gladio took the chance to reach over his shoulder, adjusting his shotgun's aim a little higher in a silent warning to all of the approaching villagers. "I know you don't wanna kill these guys, but if we wanna make it out of this in one piece and get to Noct-"

It seemed like Prompto didn't need to be told, though. He nodded his head and took his second pistol from the left shoulder holster. "I know," he answered. "Kill or be killed, right?"

Maybe later, Gladio would take the time to be proud of the fact that the lessons he'd taught the kid had actually taken root. Now wasn't the time, though. Instead, he just nodded and put his finger on the trigger. He took careful aim at the group and fired a round right into the center. The first of the people that the shot impacted fell back into two more behind him. A second shot cleared them a path to make a break for it.

"Now!" Gladio commanded.

As the pair of them ran, Prompto still firing at the group as they made their way through, Gladio had to jump to the side to dodge a thrown kitchen knife. A second villager grabbed his arm, and Prompto fired at their shoulder to loosen their grip. Trying to avoid killing them. It made sense, but honestly, Gladio wasn't sure it would be able to last in a place like this. Especially not with the distant sniper firing and taking down another of the demented villagers.

Still, Gladio and Prompto ran through an open-ended barn, until they came to a crudely crafted fence made of a wood that Gladio recognized. Tenebraen Axe-Breaker, it was called. That was what Insomnia ordered for the wood used in their swords and tools and walls that needed to be defensible. It wasn't just nicknamed axe-breaker for the fun of it. Among the strongest woods in all of Eos, it brought Gladio to the uncomfortable realization that they wouldn't be able to shoot their way through, _or_ to use one of the axes that the villagers had dropped to cut their way through. It was too high to jump, too; or to give Prompto a boost.

It also raised more than a couple of questions about _why_ such a small village was protected with such a strong fence. The question entered his mind, but was instantly drowned out by one of the villagers shouting for the rest to follow, and announcing which direction Prompto and Gladio had run off in.

"This way!" Prompto called out, pointing to a ladder in the distance that led to the roof of one of the busted down houses. "If we get the high ground, we can hold them off longer and come up with a strategy."

Under normal circumstances, the kid's critical thinking would've been enough to make Gladio proud. Right now was _not_ normal circumstance, though. So, he simply nodded his agreement with Prompto's plan and hesitantly listened when Prompto gestured for him to go first. Admittedly, it was more the fact that a villager threw a pitchfork that narrowly missed hitting him in the arm that made him move. Move he did, though, letting Prompto bring up the rear and trying to make as quick work as possible of climbing the ladder. He climbed with hurried step, and then watched Prompto follow his lead.

Only when Prompto was up in one piece did Gladio fire a shot at the villager climbing the ladder and try to pull the ladder up behind them. Once Prompto caught on to what he was trying to do, he followed Gladio's lead and helped him pull the ladder, and then the pair of them set it to rest on the rooftop. Good. They had a little more time to think now.

The sound of the sniper's fire echoing out through the town, and the villagers' screams as each shot seemed to hit its target, drew his attention, and he cast his eyes around the area, searching for the sniper in the distance. "Do you see the sniper?" Gladio called out to Prompto, who was also looking out along the horizon and desperately seeking the source of the sound. When Prompto's only answer was a shake of his head, Gladio hummed a low note and looked out around them one last time.

Just as quickly as Gladio gained confidence from gaining the high ground, though, confidence drained away at the sound of a second ladder impacting with the roof that they stood on. "Fuck." They'd stayed in one spot for too long. He cast his eyes out across the area around them, and spotted a second roof that wasn't too far away, and then a third that was a little bit further.

"Prompto. Grab the ladder and come with me."

Gladio ran a few steps ahead, making the quick jump from one roof to another. He shouldered his shotgun and reached for the ladder when he landed, accepting it and allowing Prompto a chance to take his own quick jump. While he did, Gladio moved to the edge of the roof, closer to the next house in the line. Over his shoulder, he saw that several of the villagers were up on the first rooftop now, and when Prompto landed, he turned and fired. It looked like he was desperately trying to make non-lethal hits, but the sniper in the distance held none of the same qualms. One by one, as Prompto knocked people to their knees, the sniper took them out completely. Good. Later, he'd have to remind Prompto that non-lethal wasn't always an option. As much as the kid _knew_ what the situation was, he was still new to this. Gladio had honestly hoped that it would be awhile before he and Noct faced a situation where it came down to kill or be killed, but he should've known better, really.

Shaking himself out of that thought process, he turned toward the other rooftop again and glanced out ahead of him. Several villagers had walked around the house and were acting like a lynch mob, waving their weapons in threat. Another threw an axe up at Gladio, and he had to sidestep quickly to avoid it. Breathing a huff of breath as it clanged to the rooftop a couple of yards away, Gladio glanced at Prompto. He and the sniper—wherever and whoever they were—were doing their best to hold the villagers back, so Gladio had to make quick work of laying the ladder out. It was more than enough to bridge the gap.

"Prompto! C'mon!" Gladio commanded.

Prompto shook his head, though, firing a shot from each of his pistols and then motioning with his head for Gladio to move. "You go first! I'm—we're, with whoever's helping us, I guess—holding these guys off. I'll be right behind you!"

Astrals, did Gladio hate it when he wasn't the one best suited to protect. The kid was right, though. Annoying as it was, his circumstance made him better suited to stand in harm's way. It was annoying, but the longer Gladio spent stewing on it gave the villagers more chance to catch up. So, he took care in crossing the ladder, half-running to get across as quickly as he could. Prompto crossed, too, and Gladio reached for the ladder, tugging on it and knocking the two villagers who had seen fit to follow their lead, down to the ground. They fell with a scream, landing on the ground and picking themselves up far faster than Gladio had seen anyone other than Prompto accomplish after falling that far.

What in the hell were these people?

There wasn't enough time to process that. They'd gotten smart, and several of them were doubling back to get their ladder and follow Gladio and Prompto's lead. So, he moved toward the next gap between rooftops. It was larger this time, and at a sort of sharp incline, so it was almost like climbing the ladder when as he crossed the gap. It was equal parts good and hard on his nerves, because Prompto had to hold the ladder in place so that he could climb, and prevent it from sliding around on the tin that composed the rooftop. Gladio's assistance from the top of the ladder was a little bit shakier, and each step up each rung of the ladder that Prompto took had Gladio worrying more and more than he was going to fall.

Eventually, finally, he reached the top. The villagers were just now managing to set their ladder on the first rooftop, and although they were throwing all of their gardening tools and whatever else they had at Gladio and Prompto, the distance made them all fall short. It looked like they were in the clear, for now. At the far end of the village, there was a gate that wasn't _that_ tall, which meant that Gladio could boost Prompto over it, Prompto could unlock it, and they could escape. If it was even locked, anyway.  
If they kept traveling by rooftop? Well, maybe they'd both be able to get out of here more or less unscathed. That dog had bitten the kid, sure, but his arm had already healed, and the only evidence of it ever happening in the first place was a giant smear of blood along the sleeve of his white shirt.

Things chose exactly that moment to go from bad to a thousand times worse, though. At first, Gladio was willing to pass the revving of an engine off as someone starting a car, or something. The more he thought about it, though, he realized that in all the time they'd spent crossing this village, he hadn't seen a single vehicle. None of the houses could really hide one, either. Besides that, driving a car into one of these shacks would be more than enough to send it to the ground. Plus, that didn't sound like a car's engine.

When his eyes focused on what _was_ there, though, he couldn't decide if it was better or worse than a car. "Is that... is that a fucking _chainsaw_ I hear?" Gladio asked, grabbing his binoculars from his hip and trying to get a better look at the sea of people on the ground.

"Sounds like it," Prompto answered, his eyes open as wide as they could possibly be, as he carried the ladder over to the edge of the house they were standing on

The sound of the revving chainsaw got even closer, and Gladio hissed a sharp breath, cursing aloud and taking another look into the sea of people. "Son of a bitch, it is a chainsaw. I see him!" he declared.

At first glance, the chainsaw wielding villager looked no different from any of the others. He was the same size, though maybe a little bit stockier than the others. The clothing he wore was the same ripped to hell mockery of modern fashion, except instead of the hats or a bandana, he wore a thick, black ski mask that obscured his whole face from vision. Gladio blinked.

"We gotta move. I know you can heal and whatever, but somethin' tells me gettin' somethin' lopped off ain't somethin' you can come back from. Least not with whatever gets lopped off intact."

Prompto managed a humorless laugh at that and nodded his head, setting the ladder out and up to the higher roof. "Not keen on finding out, anyway. Even if I can grow it back, it'd suck _ass_ while it did," he mused, holding the ladder so that Gladio could climb up.

Each rung he climbed, though, he felt the bottom slide more and more against the roof beneath it. Gladio puffed out a breath when he reached the top, standing in a building with a ladder that led straight down to the ground and to the exit he'd been planning to take to get out. Okay. All they needed was to get Prompto up here, and they had a clear path to get the hell out of here. Gladio looked down, just in time to see the chainsaw wielding villager strike out at the house that Prompto stood on. Well shit, this just got a whole lot more complicated.

"C'mon, Prompto. Hurry up!"

It definitely didn't seem like Prompto needed to be told twice. Immediately, he set to work crossing the ladder. The ladder's slope was steep, but not so steep that it looked like Prompto was actually climbing. It was more like crawling. Slower than climbing a ladder should have been, but faster than trying to keep his balance walking across it. At that point, it honestly looked like they'd both make it out of this just fine.

But, as things _always_ tended to do when Gladio started feeling cocky, he was proven wrong. Prompto was about halfway up the ladder when the chainsaw finally managed to cut through the main support beam that kept the far right corner of the house standing. It collapsed, the fall of the roof taking the ladder down with it. For a second, all that kept the ladder from crashing to the ground was the tight hold that Gladio had on the top of it, but maintaining that position was taking a lot more effort than Gladio could exert at once. Holding the ladder _and_ Prompto's weight from this angle, was a struggle.

Gladio, whose eyes had been closed with the strain, opened them to see Prompto looking up at him. "Let go," Prompto told him. "Let me go and head for that gate. The chainsaw guy is still busy, so if I make a run for it and head toward the opposite gate, I can draw them away from you while you head to that one." He motioned with his head toward the gate that Gladio was planning on leading them to.

"What the fuck, Prompto? No!" Gladio snapped, his voice a grunt as he tried to pull. "Just climb the damn ladder!"

Prompto shook his head no, though. "Big Guy, I'll be fine! Just trust me, okay?" he insisted, and if he was so determined, Gladio honestly found himself wondering why he didn't just drop down already. Approval. It was probably Gladio's approval that he was waiting for.

If that was the case, he was in for a long wait. Or, at least a longer wait. The tension was really starting to hurt Gladio's shoulders now, but damn it, he was not going to just give up. "You think Noct'll forgive me if I show up to wherever he is without you?" he asked. Strike where it'd be the likeliest to get through to him. A low blow, maybe, but if it was how he could get Prompto to listen? Then it was what he would do.

Except, his grip betrayed his plan. The ladder started slipping from his hands, and Prompto, who caught sight of it, swallowed thickly. "Trust me, please!" he demanded. Without waiting for a response, he let go of the ladder and dropped down to the dirt below.

Momentarily, he disappeared in the sea of angry villagers. When he resurfaced, though, he fired a couple of shots. The sniper—definitely firing from the east, and not _too_ far away, since Gladio could hear his shots clearly—did their best to clear the crowd, too. All Gladio could do from where he stood was huff a disapproving noise. What good was someone with superior status if their underlings didn't listen to them worth a damn? He wasn't kidding, either. If he showed up to get Noct and had to tell him that Prompto was dead? There was no way that Noct would forgive him. He'd demand to be brought back to the town. Or worse, he'd run off to find Prompto on his own.

All Gladio could do was watch the villagers as they flocked toward Prompto—even the one carrying the chainsaw had turned his attention toward Prompto now—and come to a grim realization that there wasn't a whole lot he could do but make a break for it.

"Go, Gladio!" Prompto's voice came over his radio. "Get out of here! I'll keep 'em busy and find some way to meet up with you!"

With another annoyed grunt, Gladio grabbed his radio from his belt and replied. "Yeah, alright. You better survive, though, you hear me? 'Cause whenever we meet up again, I've got a long ass lecture prepared about disobeying orders."

When there was no immediate answer, Gladio turned to look out toward the throng of villagers, to see them still moving almost in unison toward something. A couple seconds later, Prompto answered, his voice caught somewhere between a laugh and a pained breath. "Well, hell. If that's all that's waiting for me, may as well just die here," he joked grimly.

"Argentum, I swear to the fucking Astrals..." Gladio replied once he reached the bottom of the ladder.

Prompto came back over the radio almost immediately. "Joking, Big Guy. Joking!" A few rounds of gunfire sounded out from the other side of the village, as well as over the radio. "Hard to kill, remember?"

As much of a fight against instinct as it was, Gladio managed to force himself to turn his back on the chaos behind him. He only made it a couple of steps before he realized that the villager with the chainsaw had doubled back at the sight of him. He wasn't close, but he wasn't far enough for Gladio's preference, either. "Fuck," he cursed, hurrying toward the gate. Now he really was being forced to make a run for it.

So, that was what he did. He ran as quickly as his legs would take him, though he was unable to hide a soft sound of surprise when for a moment, another sniper shot rang out, then the revving of the chainsaw's engine stopped. It should have been a permanent end, if what Gladio thought was happening, was actually happening, but seconds later, like the shot had never hit him, the villager with the chainsaw was up and on his feet, advancing toward Gladio and the mystery sniper again.

The distance the distraction gave, though, was enough for Gladio to reach the gate. With a tug that took more of his strength than he was willing to admit to using, he pulled the gate open, squeezed through, and then slammed it shut on the other side. At first, he considered sliding the bar down to lock it behind him, but the thought—the distinct possibility—that Prompto would be coming along shortly behind him kept him from doing so. He wasn't safe yet. Not even close. In fact, he could still very clearly hear the sound of the chainsaw as it drew ever closer to the gate.

With no immediate plan, and no idea what _Prompto_ was planning, he really had to make a stand. It was just one guy. Gladio could take him. Especially if the mystery sniper had his back. Gladio backed a couple of steps away from the closed gate, then puffed a breath out as he cast his eyes around for any sign of where the mystery sniper was. Whoever they were, they had a dozen and a half chances to put a bullet through either Gladio or Prompto's skull, and they never had. While Gladio was aware that it didn't necessarily mean that they were on the same side, they at least appeared to have the same enemy.

 _The enemy of my enemy,_ he thought back to the old words his dad always used to say to him. "Wherever you are, _who_ ever you are, I'm seriously hopin' you're still gonna help me."

He honestly didn't expect an answer. As the giant gate opened, he had his shotgun up, ready to take the man with the chainsaw out on his own if he had to. When his walkie went off, and an unfamiliar voice—the accent, too, surprised him—came through the other end with an announcement of, "that's my intent, yes," he faltered for a moment.

Fortunately, the words proved to be true. While he was still trying to piece his mind together, a shot rang out. Closer this time. It impacted with the villager's shoulder, and staggered him for long enough for Gladio to pump a trio of shotgun rounds in that direction. Between those, and a second shot from the sniper, the villager hit the ground. A few seconds passed without the man getting up, and in spite of himself, Gladio breathed a sigh of relief. Was it over?

Gladio picked his radio up and pushed the button. "Thanks," he told the sniper. "I owe you one, whoever you are." After a few seconds of radio silence, he spoke up again. "What, saved my ass and can't even be bothered to talk to me more than a few quick words?" More silence came over the line for a few more seconds, and with a sigh, Gladio clipped his walkie back to his belt, shrugged, and moved to head back into the town to help Prompto.

Just then, before he could make it even a yard from where he stood, the unfamiliar voice came back over the line again. "I don't recommend you going back into the village. Your friend isn't there anymore, and all of the villagers remain."

Blinking, Gladio picked his walkie back up. "What do you mean?" he asked.

A few more seconds of silence and hissing static, and then with a clatter, something hit the ground at Gladio's feet. "I'm in a hunting stand, several yards due south of where you're standing," the sniper announced. "From here, you can get a vantage point of the whole village. Use that hookshot I just threw to you to get up here. We can talk more when you do. This frequency isn't secure."

Gladio blinked as he looked down at the ground. Sure enough, a finely engraved, silver hookshot sat on the ground in front of him. He leaned down and picked it up, turning to look south. Several yards due south. With a glance at the door, hoping that by 'not there anymore,' the sniper didn't mean that Prompto was dead, he decided to go to the hunting stand and see who this sniper was for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHO COULD THE SNIPER POSSIBLY BE? :o
> 
> Also: this is my first time writing Gladio! I hope it's alright! ♥


	4. Mystery

Gladio had never used a hookshot before. Honestly, in any other circumstance, he may have allowed himself to marvel at how fun it was. How cool. Except, his exit wasn't anywhere near as graceful as the people he saw in movies. There was no flip, no smooth climb. No, instead, he simply hung there for a second, and was forced to use his upper body strength to finish his ascent.

"I'll thank you to be careful with that," the sniper spoke. "It's among my most prized possessions."

Grunting with the exertion it took to finish pulling himself up, he finally chanced a glance at the sniper. Honestly, it was a little embarrassing, but the first thing Gladio noticed about the man was his eyes. Bright green and shielded behind a pair of cat's eye rimmed glasses. His face was very angular; a defined nose and lush lips, lightly tanned skin, and an angular chin. His body was tall and slender, wrapped in a crimson red button down shirt, black suspenders, connected to a pair of black slacks, with a pair of black Oxfords on his feet. After Gladio looked him over from head to toe, he cleared his throat and looked back to meet his eyes.

With a laugh as he turned his head to look back at the hookshot, Gladio nodded his head. "Right. It's still in one piece," he murmured, looking it over. "Nice, too. Little hard to use, but damn cool."

The sniper's mouth curled into a smile, and he shrugged a shoulder. "It takes time to learn properly," he explained, extending his hand and beckoning in a silent request for Gladio to hand the hookshot back. "I'll have that back, if you don't mind." He stepped forward, revealing where his sniper rifle leaned against the tree behind where he'd been standing.

It was a damn nice rifle, too. Sleek and modern—the Tenebraen Serpent, if Gladio wasn't mistaken; a brand that wasn't even available in Insomnia yet—painted black and adorned with silver accents. "The Serpent," Gladio remarked, getting a better look at the rifle from around the sniper. "Ain't seen one of 'em up close yet."

"A gift," the sniper explained. "My hookshot, if you don't mind."

Gladio looked down at the hookshot, then at the sniper. "In exchange for your name," he remarked, tilting his head to the side. A name to cross check against Lucian records, and maybe, for self-honesty's sake, to sate his own curiosity a bit.

The sniper looked at him incredulously. "Truly? I save you and your partner, you yourself confess that you owe me one, then I aid you _again_ by loaning you my personal hookshot, and you refuse to return it to me until I tell you my name. Am I reading this incorrectly?" he asked.

Shrugging his lip, Gladio shook his head. "Nope. Sounds about right to me."

At first, it didn't look like the sniper was going to answer. Honestly, Gladio was completely prepared to give the hookshot back anyway, because the fact that his sleuthing skills were kind of... not so good, didn't give him the right to keep something that wasn't his. Plus, the guy was right. He'd been nothing but helpful, and in return, Gladio was holding on to an item used to help him after the guy had asked for it back. With that in mind, he pulled in a deep breath, and met the guy's eyes again, preparing to offer it back.

Before the words could escape, though, the sniper spoke up. "Very well. My name is Ignis. Scientia." One of his hands was on his hip, and even though his tone was riddled with annoyance, there was a slight glint in his eye. Amusement, maybe? Whatever it was, it took Gladio way off guard.

"Gladiolus Amicitia. Uh. Gladio," Gladio offered in return, along with the hook shot. "I would've given it back to you anyway."

All of Gladio's years, training to read people's expressions—to know who was and wasn't a danger, to read different faces and what they meant, in anticipation of when he needed to protect Noct and what needed to be done—funneled into reading the odd expression on Ignis' face. There was a weird glint in Ignis' eyes for just split second. Knowing. Like he'd already been _fully_ aware of at least part of what Gladio had said. What part? How did he know? Before the questions had a chance to surface, Ignis spoke up.

His tone was gentle, as he pulled a pair of binoculars from his hip and looked back toward the village. "Your friend is okay, if you were wondering," he explained. "His escape was quite impressive. He ran through the village again, toward the opposite gate, and then scaled it like it was nothing. Dexterous. And resilient, for that matter."

Prompto was okay. That was a _major_ relief, but also a little bit concerning. Prompto's circumstance was a sensitive subject. It was classified to the highest degree, to the point that only people with high clearance were allowed to know about it. Even Gladio didn't know the whole story. Even _Prompto_ didn't. All Gladio really knew was that the Marshal found the kid when he was a baby—not when, not where, not any of the details—and passed him to a young Lucian couple who wanted a kid. Honestly, Gladio wasn't even sure his adoptive parents ever knew about his circumstance until it started showing itself when Prompto was a teenager. They hadn't reacted well when they found out, and they hadn't really had much contact with Prompto since they sent him back to the Marshal at the Citadel. Too much for them to handle, they'd said, and King Regis had paid them for their silence. Personally, Gladio thought they were just cowards.

Because of that though, because of the worry of what the general Lucian public would think, and because even the Marshal didn't know where the abilities had come from, Prompto's circumstance was hidden under several different classifications. It was mostly for Prompto's protection, and Prompto knew that. The problem was that, for outsiders, observing it left little to the imagination. Seeing Prompto take a bullet to the chest and then be up and on his feet in a matter of hours was jarring to even people who _did_ know. To people who didn't? Well, it took a lot of lying, and even more explaining.

Fortunately, Gladio was good enough at both of those—not to mention used to them—to easily be able to cover for him. "He's elusive. Good at making people think they hurt him, when they really only grazed him. Or missed him entirely." It was a vague explanation, but usually enough to do the trick.

Ignis seemed a little suspicious, but with a thoughtful hum, he shrugged his head to the side. "It appears so," he agreed. "He certainly had me fooled."

Humming a note in lieu of a response, Gladio nodded and turned his head to look toward the village. He pulled his binoculars from his hip, glancing out toward the village and feeling a mix of relief and dread overcome him. All of the villagers were right back to business as usual. Back to their various chores, like there hadn't been a massive mob riot. He wondered if they'd notice that their chainsaw friend didn't come back, or if they'd just assume that he'd killed Gladio.

Before he could question anymore, his radio crackled and hissed at his hip. "Big Guy? … you hea- me?" Prompto's voice came over the line.

The signal was a little bit choppy, which was weird. Ignis had been able to get through to him just fine. He'd ask in a second. For now, he hit the button and answered Prompto. "You good, Prompto? In one piece and everything?" he asked.

"Won't get to test that the...ry about lopping off ... parts, if that's what you're asking," Prompto joked. "How abou... you? All okay?"

Ignis was giving an inquisitive look about Prompto's joke, but Gladio didn't let it get to him. Didn't let it show that it was anything more than just an inside joke between a pair of friends who'd known each other for decades. "Yeah. Where are you? Getting some chop on my end," he told Prompto.

A couple seconds of radio silence ensued before Prompto answered. "...dergound," he explained. "They chased me through the gate... had to hide out and make a break for a storm cellar. Or something. ...ot sure what it is, but there was... path to a tunnel and..." More static overtook the radio, studded with intermittent bits of Prompto's voice. Fragments of words that Gladio couldn't really understand enough to identify. Then, it faded into complete radio silence, and Gladio frowned.

"It would seem that you've lost your signal," Ignis pointed out, mild concern crossing his face. 

Gladio grunted in response, barely holding back a sarcastic response. He puffed out a breath instead and shrugged his head to the side. "Long as there's nothing too bad in those tunnels, the kid'll be okay. I can meet up with him wherever they spit out and it'll be alright." It was more to reassure himself than to reassure Ignis, honestly, because what did Ignis really care about a whole bunch of people he didn't know.

As if the cosmos were trying to prove Gladio wrong as much as possible today, Ignis shook his head no as he reached into his backpack and pulled out a slip of paper. Just normal printer paper. After looking it over, he turned his eyes to look at Gladio and offered a tentative smile. It was just a slight upward turn of the lips; nervous and uncertain, but it was a weird show of trust for someone that he'd never met before.

"I don't think it will be that easy. Here," Ignis offered. "It's a map of the area surrounding the village. I encountered a man a few hours ago that was selling ammunition and odds and ends like maps and a larger pack than what I had. I'm not sure where he went, but he told me that he marked off the spots that he frequents on the map. I would highly recommend seeking him out before you wander around too much. As you can see," he started, moving just slightly so that he was looking at the map over Gladio's shoulder once he'd accepted it, "one of them is located not too far off from here. Along the path you were on when you left the village."

Gladio turned to glance at him, blinking a little bit at the proximity. He really was quite attractive. Gladio wasn't really a stranger to instantaneous physical attraction. Most of his relationships had really been based on that; men that he saw and wanted, went on casual dates with, fucked a few times, then they went their separate ways at the end. Attraction had never really been tinged with quite this much curiosity, though. The want to know more. More than just a hookshot, a sniper rifle, green eyes, glasses, and a pleasant smell of freshly cleaned laundry and hazelnut coffee.

Snapping himself out of it, he turned to look back down at the map. The guy was a stranger. All Gladio knew about him was his name, that he was damn good with a sniper rifle, and that he had a really cool hookshot. Well, and that he was being alarmingly helpful for a stranger that had never really seen Gladio before. There was nothing wrong with noticing, though.

As he looked the map over, he spotted several spots marked with blue stars. "I'm gonna assume those are where he's gonna be?" he asked.

Ignis hummed an affirmative note, tracing the trail with his finger. "If you follow this trail, you're likely to run into more townsfolk, who will attack you on sight. Halfway down, however, there's a side path that will take you directly to the last spot I saw him. And as you can see," he pointed to another trail, "a second path leading from there will take you right around to where the tunnel your friend is in lets out."

Blinking, Gladio nodded his head. It was all self-explanatory from the map, sure, but he seemed pretty knowledgeable about the area. His accent sounded kind of like Luna's, and her brother Ravus'. Tenebraen. Maybe that was why he knew the area. Tenebrae wasn't far away from here, so maybe he'd been here before. Or the maps. It was probably the maps. Whatever it was, though, it was a pretty big benefit to Gladio right then, so he wasn't going to turn the help down. Instead, he folded the map closed and slid it into the pocket on his jeans.

"What're you here for, anyway? You don't seem like you're one of, y'know, them." Gladio gestured broadly out toward the town, his eyes turning with his gesture. He could just barely see the town from here, where the villagers collected and cleaned up the remains of the house that the guy with the chainsaw had knocked down.

At first, it didn't seem like Ignis was going to answer. He moved back to where he'd stood before, gathering his sniper rifle and slid it into the holster on his back. "I could ask the same of you," he explained, in lieu of an answer. "It is quite obvious that you're not from the village, let alone the region in general. No one of this area would enter Ulwaat with guns blazing, as you and your partner did." The tone in his voice was less conversational now, more business; more serious.

Before Gladio could even come up with something to say in return, Ignis was speaking again. "If you worry that I will counteract whatever it is that you're trying to accomplish, I can assure you that I will not," he explained. "I had several chances—dozens of chances, even—to do just that while you and your partner were maneuvering through the village, correct?" he asked.

Okay, he was right there. Especially since Gladio hadn't even known where he was when they were trying to make their way through the village. He watched Ignis as it seemed like he was making even more preparations to leave here. "Yeah, I guess you're not wrong about that," he answered. That wasn't really his concern, but honestly, the fact that it hadn't been his concern, was also concerning. Just because someone helped them once, didn't mean they'd keep helping. It didn't even enter his mind until right then. Kinda weird that he let a pretty face distract him from his duties, but it was what it was.

"Well, maybe we could try and travel together," Gladio suggested. "You know the land, and you're a damn good sniper. I'm good in a close-up fight, and I've got pretty good survival skills. So, maybe we'd make better ground if we moved together."

For a second, it looked like Ignis was considering it. He was quiet, contemplative as he glanced down at the radio on his hip. After a few seconds, he raked his teeth along his lip and said, "no. No, I work faster on my own. It's easier without someone else to look out for," he explained, his words sounding almost rehearsed. After he finished, he wouldn't meet Gladio's eye.

Gladio was pretty good with human relations. Usually, when someone was evasive, refused to meet his eye, there was some level of lie to what they were saying. It happened with Noct a lot when he went through his depressive spells, or Prompto when he liked to play off the pain he felt when he got injured. Iris, too, when Gladio had asked her about her relationship with Crowe back when it first started. She'd been so awkward and embarrassed that usually, thinking about it made Gladio smile. Right now, though, no smile came. He was too busy wondering exactly what Ignis was being so secretive about.

Not that it mattered. He had his own mission, and it was entirely possible that it didn't even match up to Gladio's. "Suit yourself," he murmured.

"However," Ignis countered his own statement, "it wouldn't be the worst idea for us to work together. To keep in radio contact and let one another know of dangers that we encounter." There was a knowing expression on his face again, like there was more that he knew that he wasn't saying.

Gladio couldn't let it go unasked. Especially if he was going to be wandering around out there. "Dangers," he spoke. It wasn't a question, but it didn't really need to be. Ignis had mentioned dangers, and Gladio was sure that he hadn't just done it for his own health.

Once again, Ignis was silent for a few seconds, but then he finally spoke up. "I'm certain that you noticed the villagers in there; how resilient they are and how many injuries they can sustain before succumbing?" Even as he spoke, his hand found his hookshot and he glanced around, likely for a place to use it.

Despite that, despite knowing that he was likely looking for a place to escape to, Gladio found himself thinking back to the way the villagers fell from the high ladder and weren't really fazed beyond a simple grunt of pain. As guilty as it made him feel, he thought of Prompto then, and how he had a very similar circumstance. Quickly he shook that thought away and nodded his head at Ignis instead.

"Yeah," he answered. He'd meant to talk to Prompto about that, but hadn't gotten the chance yet.

With a frown and a sigh, Ignis glanced back up to meet Gladio's eye. "Be wary, Gladiolus," he offered. "There are exceedingly sinister things happening in Ulwaat, and as long as you and yours are here, there is no guaranteeing that you will all escape safely." There was kindness in his warning, a gentleness that Gladio didn't expect. Before Gladio could respond, though, Ignis had raised his hookshot and aimed it somewhere to the east. "If both of us are here for something, I do not doubt that our paths will cross again. Do take care. I would rather you be alive when it happens." 

Without another word, he fired the hookshot deeper into the woods and then pulled himself away, and Gladio was left standing on top of the hunting stand, staring at him as he disappeared, and wondering several things at once. Not the least of which was exactly who in the hell Ignis Scientia actually was.

That, at least, was one thing that he could find out. Reaching into his pack, he pulled his cell phone out and dialed HQ back in Insomnia. Reception out here wasn't very good. Even worse than it could get in some of the back corners of Lucis, honestly. It didn't matter. He still called. Curiosity was a powerful thing, and Gladio had that in spades at the moment. Breathing a sigh, as he listened to the phone ring, he started looking down over the edge of the hunting stand for a way down. No ladder, nothing... and he was a good thirty or so feet up. More than likely, this meant that he'd have to climb down from the tree the hard way.

It was fine. He could do it. It was just more of a pain than he expected.

As he scouted branches that could support his weight, a voice came through the other end of his phone. "It's about _time_ one'a y'all contacted me. I was worried sick! Y'all realize how late it is over here?" Cindy Aurum, one of Uncle Regis' top tech specialists, spoke, her tone equal parts annoyance and concern.

Time zones. Right. It was probably sometime in the early morning in Insomnia, but honestly, the city's name was appropriate. Regardless of how early it was, the people in the Citadel didn't sleep. Especially not the ones on Uncle Regis' staff, and _especially_ not when Noct was missing. Gladio wanted to tell Cindy not to worry, but honestly, for several reasons, he couldn't. Everyone was going to worry until Noct was back in one piece. So much of the situation was unknown, including the fact that, according to Ignis, there were dangers that even Insomnian officials didn't know about. At least none that were in any reports that Gladio had read.

Too much had happened all at once. Gladio huffed a sigh. "Sorry, Cin. We ran into some trouble. Got split up," he explained.

After a couple seconds of silence, Cindy asked, "Y'all both alright?" Her tone dripped with barely-concealed worry, and he could almost see the expression on her face right then.

"Pretty sure. He just radioed me a few minutes ago, but reception was bad, because he had to take shelter underground. But he sounds like he's fine," Gladio reassured her. "Besides, he's tougher to kill than I am."

Cindy huffed a gentle laugh, then said, "I asked about both of y'all, though. I know Prom's tough to kill. You ain't exactly no walk in the park, neither. Don't mean somethin' didn't happen, though. So, how 'bout you? You good, too?" In the background, he could hear the varying beeps and sounds of all of Cindy's tech stuff. Gladio didn't understand a thing about it, other than the fact that it was noisy as all hell.

He laughed a gentle note at Cindy's worry. "I'm fine, Cin. I mean, the locals got hostile. Like, real hostile. That's why we had to split. But I'm good." 

"There was nothin' in the reports I saw about hostile folks out that way," Cindy pointed out, and Gladio could almost hear the questions in her voice. How they were attacked, why and where, any details that Gladio could offer her.

Later, though. "I'll tell you everything later, Cin. Promise, okay? Right now, I need you to do a quick background check on someone," he explained. "Ran into someone else here, who seems to know a lot about a whole lot of things, but not enough to really explain 'em. So, I'm wondering if you can run his name and see if you can find anything for me."

Was that wrong? Sure, they'd just agreed to work together, but Ignis hadn't really given him much information, beyond the whole 'sinister things happening in Ulwaat' thing. Not that Gladio really minded. He understood confidentiality better than most people did. There was a lot about his job that he could never really talk about; that he was under orders to keep under wraps. When he had a way to _get_ that information, though, no one could blame him for taking it. Right? He was willing to bet, despite not knowing anything about the guy, that he'd have done the same.

"Alright. Who is it?" Cindy asked.

Rationalization time was over, Gladio decided, and he turned his head in the direction that Ignis had taken off in. "Ignis Scientia," he told her. "Not sure exactly how you spell it, but his voice sounded almost Tenebraen, if that helps at all."

Gladio could clearly hear the sounds of typing and clicking in the background as Cindy looked through files and folders for information. "Ignis Scientia," she announced, her tone pretty much declaring that she'd found something. "Handsome lookin' fella? Green eyes, glasses?" she asked.

"Yeah," Gladio answered.

Cindy hummed, and Gladio heard a couple more clicks before she spoke up again. "Well, ain't this somethin' weird," she muttered, her voice sounding more perplexed than Gladio had heard her sound before. "We got a file on him. But everythin' I got says classified. I'm talkin' everything. Age, date of birth, place of birth... all of it. Don't think I'm gonna be able to tell you nothin' based on this file."

With a raised eyebrow, Gladio asked, "but you do have info on him?" as he leaned back against the trunk of the tree.

A noise of confusion came over the line. "I mean, kinda. If you can call that info. Why'd you need it, anyway?"

"Partially for curiosity's sake," Gladio answered honestly. "But also partially because I ran into him here, and it looks like whatever's classified that he's doin' has got him here with me and Prompto." And helping them, for that matter.

With a declaration of, "huh," Cindy breathed a soft sigh, and then Gladio heard a little bit more typing. "Well, not that it'll help a whole lot, but I'm sendin' the file I found on him over to you. Maybe you can ask him about it, if you see him again."

Gladio thought back to his words, _I do not doubt that our paths will cross again,_ he'd said. And he'd sounded so sure. Huffing a humorless note of laughter, he nodded his head. "Yeah. I think I will," he agreed.

After explaining to Cindy that he had to climb down a tree before he could find his way to Prompto, he thanked her for the information and hung the phone up, sliding it back into his pocket. When he got to the road, he was completely and totally stunned to see that the man with the chainsaw had completely disappeared. There was no corpse, no sign that he'd ever been there to begin with. How in the hell was that possible? With all the shots that Gladio had fired, and all of the shots that _Ignis_ had fired, he should have definitely been dead. Gladio hadn't even heard the gate back to the village open. The door was loud as hell. If someone had come from the village to take the guy back, or if he'd gone back to the village, Gladio would have heard it opening and closing from several yards away.

Was he dead? Had he _ever_ been dead? What in the _hell_ was going on in this place?

Gladio breathed a deep breath and started down the path to get to the guy Ignis had told him about, then meet up with Prompto. One, two steps, and he heard a vague rustling in some branches to his right. He turned to look, but didn't approach. Survival sense told him that _nothing_ good ever came from doing that. Best case scenario, it was an animal, and he'd get bitten like Prompto had back in the village. Worst case scenario? Well, worst case scenario, it was the guy with the chainsaw and Gladio got his damn head cut off. Either one of those, honestly, he didn't want to deal with. So, he put himself on high alert and kept going, ready to fight if the need arose.

Unfortunately, he never got the chance. He only made it two more steps down the path before he felt a hard smack to the back of his head and everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, as always, friends! ♥


	5. Underground

Prompto leaned hard and heavy against the wall of the tunnel as he and Gladio finished their radio call. He was fine. He knew that he'd _be_ fine, but the worst part of his healing ability was when knives or other weapons got stuck inside his skin, was the fact that his skin healed around them, and he had to take them out. It always hurt more than whatever had put them in there to begin with, but it was better than dealing with the constant agitation that went along with moving with stuff in his skin. Sliding down the wall so that he was seated on the dirty rocks that composed the ground of the crudely carved tunnel, a trembling hand found the kitchen knife that stuck out of his thigh.

As soon as his hand clasped onto the handle, he felt the familiar sharp pain of metal moving under his skin. It scraped past muscle and tendons, all of which would be healed in minutes once he tore the knife from his flesh. It was just a matter of doing it. The skin had tried, desperately, to heal around it, but at the moment, Prompto had been too rushed, too hurried, to pull it out. The fact that it was mostly closed around the knife was going to make this all that much harder.

Still, even with the awareness of how much it would hurt, Prompto tightened his grip around the knife, sucked in a sharp breath, and then yanked.

The scream he let out when the knife left his thigh echoed through the walls of the storm cellar and probably alerted any living being that may have been down there with him to his presence. Astrals did he hope he was alone. That nothing would come around the corner at him. Leaning his head back against the wall, he stared at the ceiling and waited, breathing hissing breaths as the warm stickiness of blood dripped down his leg. It hurt. It hurt a lot. He let the blood-covered knife slip from his hand and clatter down to the floor, watching as his blood spread across the ground.

"It's okay. It's okay, it's fine," Prompto reassured himself through gritted teeth.

Soon, about half a minute later, he felt a familiar burn course its way through his thigh. Some people thought that Prompto didn't know what pain felt like. Those people were wrong, and probably listened to the way regeneration was portrayed in movies and stuff. Movies and superhero shows and comics usually made healing out to be some glamorous experience. The hero got hurt, and then they were fine within five minutes. That part, Prompto could boast as true. When movies and stuff did it, though, it was always painless, effortless. The wound sealed without any side effects or pain when it happened. Boy, did Prompto wish he could say that was the way it was for him.

Instead of the glitz and glamour that went with movie healing, Prompto got burning pain in his skin as it healed, and a searing boil as muscles and tendons mended back together. Bones? It almost felt like snapping them out of place all over again, for the amount of time that it took them to mend. As the motions played out; the burning and boiling, he breathed through gritted teeth. After a lifetime of dealing with it, Prompto would have figured that he'd have been slightly more used to it by then, but he wasn't. Not even a little. Puffing a breath out, he wiped some of the excess blood away from his hand and onto his already-bloody pant leg, before pushing himself slowly to his feet.

It was okay. It was fine. He had meant it when he said that. Now, though, he had a whole pile of extra worries on his mind. Gladio was okay, and that was great, but that left Prompto with absolutely no clue to get to the other side of the village. He wasn't walking through, that was for damn sure. As he'd escaped into the storm cellar, he'd heard the villagers, and their declaration that he'd "be back," and that he "had no choice." That they'd "take care of it" when he got there.

Two things entered his mind. The first was a wonder—not a wish, obviously—why they hadn't just followed him down into the storm cellar, if they wanted to try and kill him. Of course, that brought him to the second thing. What were they planning to take care of? The obvious answer was a plan to kill him. Was there a not-so-obvious answer, though? Something they could be planning, or something? Just as quickly as the thoughts and questions entered his mind, he forced them out. He was here for one reason, and that was to get Noctis back. Hell or high water, he was going to do it. These villagers could try to stop him, honestly.

With that in mind, he took his pistols from his shoulder holsters again, and started down the path.

The further he got from the storm cellar, the darker it got, though. He puffed a breath out, and practically tripped over his own feet at the echo that it caused. Each step he made echoed, too, and the sound of him unzipping his pack to gather his shirt light and clip it to his pocket _also_ echoed. He groaned. Of course. If there was anything here, they definitely knew that he was here now.

Still, he didn't want to make any more noise than necessary. Quietly, he continued down the tunnel, and he paused, clamping down hard on his lower lip when he came to a two way intersection. He wasn't sure what he'd expected; he hadn't even expected anything, honestly. Even without expectations, though, he'd hoped for a straightaway. He internalized a curse, and flashed his shirt light down each side of the intersection. Nothing, as far as they eye could see. Only more tunnel, dug just as crudely as the rest.

Which, of course, meant that he had a fifty-fifty chance to pick the right way.

If Gladio was here, he would come up with some kind of way to read the movement of the air and tell Prompto where the right exit was, but since Prompto was alone, he had to leave it up to chance. Pulling in a slow breath, he glanced down the right path, and then down the left path. The right path led up a high slope, and the right one went down a steady decline, and Prompto reasoned that, being underground, a steady incline would be what would get him closer to the exit. It was a reasonable assumption, he figured. So, with one gun in each of his hands, he started cautiously down the tunnel.

Before long, Prompto realized exactly how unsettling it was being underground like he was. He could hear every single noise above ground like an echo in his head, rattling his bones and, admittedly, scaring the living hell out of him. There was a rolling bellow that sounded more like thunder, but was more than likely just a car or a truck rolling across the ground—maybe, anyway; were there even any vehicles in this town?—and then the sounds of liquid rushing through pipes. Probably the town's plumbing system. It sounded like a rushing waterfall from where Prompto stood, though.

He shook it off. This was no time to be a chicken. He needed to get the hell out of this tunnel, and then meet back up with Gladio so that the pair of them could figure out where in the hell Noctis was. If he was this freaked out, though, he could only imagine how Noctis was feeling, wherever he was.

Astrals preserve him, he had to find Noctis. Heaven knew that if roles were reversed, if Prompto was somehow missing and rumors had placed him in a place like this, Noctis probably would had gotten himself destroyed to get to Prompto. Destroyed. If Noctis was out there somewhere, if these people had hurt him somehow... _they'd_ be the ones getting destroyed. Prompto would tear them apart limb from limb. Noctis was the one person who knew about him, who had never looked at him with a hundred thousand questions about what he was, and why he was what he was. Well, not the only. Gladio had never really asked. He'd given Prompto a few weird looks the first time he healed, and asked a kind of sarcastic _"what the hell are you?"_ but beyond that, _he_ hadn't really asked much, either.

Noctis, though, had been there with him through some of his rougher moments. Times when he'd wondered if he was even human. Times when he'd hurt himself on purpose, just to remind himself that he could feel pain. Noctis had been there, had reminded him that he was just as human as anyone else, and had _also_ told Cor some of his less-than-safe habits. Together, Cor and Noctis had convinced him to stop; had convinced him that hurting himself just to feel pain didn't prove anything. As tempting as it still was sometimes, he had stopped doing it. It sounded cliche as hell, even to his own ears, but the fact of the matter was that Noctis' support, Noctis being there for him and reassuring him all the time that he _was_ human, had saved him.

That, among other reasons—not the least of which was the fact that Noctis was his favorite person in the whole entire world—was why Prompto had to get him back. It was his job, sure. But it was more than his job. It was personal. Steeling himself with that thought in mind, Prompto continued down the tunnel. Fear wouldn't stop him. Cor had trained him to fight fear. Gladio and Cor both had taught him to compartmentalize it. There was one fear, though, that he couldn't compartmentalize. The fear of not making it to Noctis on time.

Admittedly, that fear had him paying a little bit less attention as he hurried through the tunnel a little further. Even if he had been paying attention, though, he probably wouldn't have noticed the small, clear, strand of wire that was strung up across the bottom of the tunnel. With the darkness and the rush he was in, though, he _definitely_ didn't notice it. At least, not until the first of the automated spear shooters in front of him fired. The first shot missed him by nearly an inch, and the subsequent three that went off in front of him served no more purpose than to scare the living daylights out of him.

Gasping a sharp breath that echoed through the tunnel, Prompto tripped over his feet, which was fortunate, because it landed him on the ground and underneath a second line of spears as they shot out over him. How? How had they set something like that up in a rock wall? Prompto rolled onto his back on the ground, looking up at where the spears crossed the tunnel, hitting the wall and then falling to the floor several feet away from him. Something else he could have healed from fine, but he really didn't want to. Not even a little bit. Prompto crawled to the end of the line of spears, picking himself up slowly and watching as the line of spears still went off behind him. It was like they were limitless. Like they had an endless supply to shoot across this stupid, narrow pathway. He breathed a slow and calming breath out through his nose and tried to put the situation out of his mind. It wasn't really easy, while the stupid weapons still fired across the tunnel, but at least now he knew that he needed to pay a little bit more attention.

That awareness only grew stronger when, from somewhere further down the tunnel, he heard the ear-splitting sound of metal scraping against stone.

Metal against stone was never a pleasant sound. Prompto had come to grips with that ages ago while he was training, when his strikes or Gladio's strikes would sometimes hit the stone floor of the training room. This was kind of like that, except for the fact that they dragged for a couple of seconds afterward. Almost like someone was dragging a sword across the ground.

No seriously, what the hell was going on in this town? Kidnapping, crazy murderous villagers, spears shooting across hallways in tunnels, and now whatever was causing _that_ horrible sound...

Prompto shut his shirt light off and pressed his back against the wall as the sound got closer. It wasn't like he actually expected to be able to conceal himself. For some reason, these villagers seemed weirdly in tune with where other living beings were. That was how Gladio and Prompto had ended up needing to split up in the first place. That was _also_ how Prompto had ended up down in this stupid tunnel to begin with. Admittedly, a part of him was tempted to find his way back to the storm cellar and back up to the street, but the thought of what the villagers had said—that he _had_ to come back sometime, that they'd "take care of it" whenever he got there—deterred him from that.

Still, he was pretty literally stuck between a rock and a hard place right now, because if the echoes were to be trusted, he really had nowhere to go but toward the metal-scraping-rock sound. Maybe he could hope that it was some kind of small machine; something that he could easily avoid. At the first sign that it wasn't something like that, though? He'd run.

At least that was what he thought.

He continued along the path, turning his shirt light on again. No, it wasn't exactly the safest thing in the world to publish a beacon of where he was, but it was probably safer than wandering along in the dark with no idea what he was heading toward. The sound grew ever louder as he got closer, louder and louder still, until he rounded a particularly twisting corner and spotted... well, he wasn't exactly sure what it was.

Okay, that wasn't exactly true. It was a person. Or at least it was shaped like a person. An over-sized person, who stood easily three feet taller than Prompto and whose muscle mass was easily two and a half times what Gladio had. Over his head, he had a black ski mask, similar to the one that the man with the chainsaw in the village had worn. Except he looked more like an executioner of some sort than any sort of regular villager. An executioner. The concept in and of itself was pretty terrifying, but what made it all the worse was the fact that he was carrying a giant axe. A _giant_ axe. Maybe he _was_ an executioner.

The weapon itself was bigger than Prompto was, and from where he stood, he could very clearly see that there were large, crimson red blood stains on the blade. Some were pretty old, long-dried and turning dark brown. Some, though, were brand new, to the point that still-fresh blood dripped off the end of it. At the sight of the blood, two terrifying thoughts entered Prompto's mind. The first was, what if that blood belonged to Gladio. That, Prompto decided, was easy to dismiss. Gladio had seemed relatively fine when they'd spoken over the radio. The second worry, though, was a lot harder to play off.

Noctis.

No one knew where he was. Even that anonymous note on King Regis' desk had only given a roundabout location. What if they were already too late? What if the blood on the end of that blade belonged to Noctis? What if... what if he was dead? The thought made Prompto halt in his path. It wasn't the first time he'd thought it since this whole thing started, of course. After seeing what had happened in the village, though, and seeing the blood dripping from this man's axe, he was really starting to worry.

Prompto shook his head hard. No. No, that wasn't the way to think. Noctis was alive. Noctis was alive and he was fine and he was out there, waiting for Prompto or Gladio to find him and take him home. There was nothing else to it; there was no other option. Because if he _wasn't_ fine, if he _wasn't_ alive? Well, Prompto didn't even want to think about it. All that was left, all that mattered from here, was to do exactly what Noctis was waiting for: find him and bring him home. That meant that he needed to get out of here. There was a light shining from the ceiling at the other end of the room the guy was in. Prompto could just barely make out the silhouette of a ladder leading up to daylight. Up to safety. Realization sank in, however, that the only way for him to get to it was to get past the executioner.

He frowned. Maybe he'd spoken too soon when he'd reassured Gladio that they wouldn't get to test the theory. Astrals did he hope that nothing got lopped off, though. Growing it back would be painful as all hell, and there was no guarantee that it would even happen in the first place. Shaking his head hard, he forced himself out of his own mind and tried to think.

A plan. He needed some kind of plan of attack, or plan of defense, or plan of _something_.

The literal second that thought entered his mind, he caught sight of a shadowy figure dropping down the ladder on the other side of the room. He blinked. At first, he wondered if maybe it was Gladio. But no. Too slender, and too short. Way, _way_ too short. They looked even shorter than Prompto, actually, which was saying something, since Prompto was shorter than most people he knew.

A voice, somehow vaguely familiar, filled the area. "Oh. Another one of _you_ guys, huh?"

Nope, definitely not Gladio. The carrier of the voice was female, and she reached over her shoulder, pulling out a massive grenade launcher and aiming it at the executioner. The giant man raised his blade and swung in a circle at her, taking out all of the creepy skulls and things that lined the room with his swings. He didn't speak, but a grunting shout echoed out in the space around them, and the woman was forced to jump back to evade the swing. Even still, he heard her make a noise of frustration.

"Oh, come on! I liked this coat!" she announced, but just as quickly as she said it, she shed the coat onto the floor. It was made of black leather, but the executioner's blade cut the front of it almost completely in half. The top and the bottom were separated.

The executioner raised his axe again, preparing to make another swing, but before he could even move, the woman shot a round from her launcher. The round impacted with the executioner, and immediately exploded into a plume of flame. The man's screams echoed throughout the tunnel as well, but over them, Prompto heard the woman's voice as clear as day.

She called, "hey! Thermal scans told me you were down here, so are you gonna help me? Or are you just gonna sit there like an idiot and do nothing?"

All Prompto could do at first was blink dumbly. First of all, she knew that he was there, and second of all, who in the hell _was_ she? Well, the first question could be answered by listening to what she'd said: she'd seen him on thermal scans. The second question could be answered by a plain and simple, did it matter? She was helping him, whoever she was, so who was he to complain?

Prompto stepped out of cover, aimed each of his pistols at the executioner, and fired, over and over again, until he was completely out of ammo. He'd probably stepped a little bit too close to the flaming mass of flesh, especially if the heat of cinder hitting his face was any indication. It hurt, but it was no different than the pain and discomfort he felt every time he healed, and it would probably feel like that _until_ it healed. It didn't matter. The bit of help was all he needed. Between the still-smoking embers of the flame round and the two dozen shots that Prompto put into the guy's head, he fell to the ground and stopped moving.

"Well shit," the woman commented, stepping into the path of Prompto's shirt light. "Told you to help me and you emptied two whole clips into his head. Can't say you don't deliver, kid."

The woman was imposing as hell. She stood just slightly shorter than Prompto, but she was completely clad in black leather from head to toe. A black leather bodysuit, with black leather fingerless gloves and black leather motorcycle boots. The only things not made of leather that she wore were a silver choker—made of some kind of fancy cloth and adorned with the letters 'A&C' in black diamonds—and a black diamond ring on her left ring finger. Her hair was long and silver, and tied into a ponytail full of braids, save for a few pieces of bangs that hung out. Prompto decided that she was easily the biggest badass he had ever seen. Maybe even more so than Gladio.

And he couldn't wait until they met up again, so he could tell Gladio just that.

"Who are you?" he asked her instead.

She shrugged a shoulder. "Aranea. Merc for hire. Contact of mine sent me to help you. Least I think it's you, since you haven't introduced yourself and you're pretty much blinding me with that light on your shirt so I can't see you," she explained.

A mercenary? Prompto blinked twice. "Huh?"

With a snorted laugh, she let her shoulders sag just slightly. "That," she announced, "was your cue to introduce yourself, kid. So..." She trailed off, leading him expectantly with a swirling gesture of her hand.

"Um... Prompto," he introduced himself, clicking his shirt light off and looking at her inquisitively. "Argentum. Who, um... who sent you?"

If he was thinking clearly, Prompto probably would have remembered Gladio's order not to give real names or interact with locals. He didn't know if she was a local or not, but it didn't matter. The cat was out of the bag, and Gladio's words were the farthest thing from his mind. Whoever she was, she had helped him. Maybe it was naive, but for now, that was enough for Prompto. Especially since he had no idea where to even begin on a mission like this without Gladio's help.

Aranea shrugged. "Does it matter? I know you're here to find King Regis' son, and I'm pretty sure I overheard a couple villagers talking about where they might be keeping him." She pointed over Prompto's shoulder, back toward the village.

Information on where they were keeping Noctis? Prompto blinked and stepped forward, probably looking a little bit too eager as he clasped his hands together and pleaded with her. "You have to tell me! Do you know if he's alive? Like... have they hurt him or-" Desperation radiated from him in waves, he could tell.

She laughed a somewhat huffy note and rolled her eyes. "Down boy," she teased, patting Prompto on the head mockingly. "I don't know much more than where they're keeping him." She paused, regarding the dejected look that Prompto could tell that he was wearing, then heaved an even more dramatic sigh as she looked at the ceiling in exasperation. " _But_ , they never said anything about a body. They literally only ever referred to him as 'him,' or 'Caelum.' Take that as you will." She tilted her head to the side in a shrug.

It probably should have been a little bit embarrassing, the swell of relief that washed over Prompto with just the _thought_ that Noctis might still be alive. It wasn't even confirmation. All it was, was a maybe. Third hand stories from a woman that he didn't even know he could trust. For the first time, the smile that he wore was a little bit closer to genuine. Closer, but not quite there. It wouldn't _be_ there until he saw Noctis with his own two eyes and could confirm that he was in one piece. Not for the first time, Prompto found himself wondering if this level of worry, this level of attachment, was normal between a pair of best friends. Whether it was or not, though, it didn't matter.

All that mattered was the fact that he had a lead now. When he got topside, he'd call Gladio over the radio again and suggest for them to meet up. Then? They could go and get Noctis back.

"You coming with me? Or am I leaving your sorry ass behind and going to rescue the Prince myself?" Aranea asked him, impatience dripping from her tone.

Apparently, while Prompto had been in thought, she'd moved toward the ladder she'd jumped down. "No. No, um... I'm on my way," he told her, putting his guns back in their holsters and hurrying to catch up to her at the ladder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As for what happened to Gladio... you'll have to wait and see! ;D


	6. Distance

Gladio awoke, several hours later, lying on the ground next to an ugly, murky, pond like someone had dumped him there. His head felt like someone had physically split it open, like it was gashed and bleeding all over the ground in front of him. It wasn't, at least not literally, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt like the actual worst circle of hell that had ever been created. The worst part was that his headache _wasn't_ the worst part. His whole body felt strange. Beneath his skin, it felt like there was something crawling inside of him. It was hard to explain. The feeling wasn't one of a physical being or anything, but it felt like someone had replaced his blood with something thicker. Stickier.

Aside from that, though, that and the ripping and tearing pain in his skull, he felt more or less okay.

He pushed himself from lying flat on the ground to his hands and knees, blinking hard against the offensive shine of the moon's light. It wasn't even daylight, but the whiteness of the moon in the sky felt too bright for him. He uselessly tried to shield his eyes with his hand, putting his other hand on the ground to help him get up. With a groan that Noct probably would have been jealous of, he pushed himself to his feet and took a look around, trying to get his bearings.

None of his surroundings were anything like they'd been when he last remembered. He didn't even remember _hearing_ water. There had been some on the map, but Gladio's foggy mind wouldn't let him remember exactly where it was. Breathing deeply and slowly, he reached into his pack for the map and his flashlight, unfolding the map and flicking the light on, before trying to get his bearings.

Compared to where he'd been last... the lake was _really_ far away, for some damn reason. Several buildings, as well as several large stretches of land, separated where he'd met up with that Ignis guy and Ulwaat Lake. As he raised his head again to look around, though, two things caught his attention. If they'd just brought him _to_ the lake, wouldn't the shore be on the other side of him? It would be to the west, not the east. The map told him the exact same thing; that the water should have been to the west. To say that he was confused? Understatement of the century.

The mission file came out of his pack next, and he took a look at the map of the region; Accordo, Tenebrae, Niflheim... the only real water source that was nearby other than the lake was the ocean, and even that was on the northwest side. So, what, had someone brought him to the other side of the damned lake? Gladio looked down at the water, puffing out a steady stream of breath through his pursed lips. It was the only thing that made sense. Even saying that, though, seemed like a stretch. Why in the hell would they knock him out and take him to the other side of a lake?

And who, for that matter? The only two people that he could possibly think of were Ignis and the man with the chainsaw. No, he didn't know Ignis from a hole in the ground, but something in Gladio's gut said that it wasn't him. Maybe it was dumb. Maybe it was naive. The guy had been so upfront and honest with his help, though, that Gladio couldn't suspect him of something like that. It was stupid; the type of thing that he'd blame Noct and Prompto for. He just had a gut feeling. Ignis wasn't that type of guy. What type of guy he _was_ , however, remained to be seen.

Kneeling down, Gladio stuck his fingertips in the water. Temperature was pretty normal for lake water. He wiped his fingers on his pants and looked around again. Except, as he did, another weird and uncomfortable feeling overtook him. Crawling. Like a gross parasite was swimming around under his skin or something. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, though. His skin was still its normal color, he didn't _look_ weird or anything. He just felt weird. Uncomfortable. Gross.

Seriously, what the hell was going on?

Gladio reached into his pack again, grabbing his pain relievers for the splitting pain that still ripped its way through his head, and downing them with the half-full bottle of lukewarm water that he carried in there. No way in hell he'd use water as gross as the lake water to wash down a pill. Now, he needed to figure out a way to get across the lake again. Or, at the very least, he needed to look around where he was right now for some kind of clue to where Noct was.

Oh. And he should probably call Prompto. He reached down to his hip for his radio and looked it over. Still in one piece, thankfully.  Small favors.

"Prompto?" Gladio called over the radio. "You there?"

A bit of static, and then a few seconds later, Prompto's relieved voice came over the line. "Big Guy!" he spoke in a half-gasp. "I've been worrying my ass off about you! Where are you?"

With a humorless laugh, Gladio pressed down on the button again. "Not sure, actually," he answered. "Think I'm on the other side of Lake Ulwaat. And before you ask, I've got no fuckin' clue how I got here." He glanced down at the map again.

Prompto make a couple of questioning noises. Like a combination between a grunt and a 'huh?' "The other side of Lake Ulwaat? How far away is that? I don't think I've run into a lake at all." After a beat, he continued. "So, it took you five hours to get there, then? Why didn't you contact me sooner?" he asked.

"Five hours?" Gladio asked incredulously, his voice echoing out into the mostly-empty expanse around him. "Five hours..." he repeated.

Humming an affirmative answer, Prompto said, "the last time I talked to you was, like... five hours ago. Six, maybe? Definitely before the sun went down. I've been wondering where the hell you were, trying to figure it out, but also trying to get to where Noct is." His tone was panicked, worried.

So, he'd been unconscious for five hours. Gladio was still stuck on that, honestly. It made sense, of course. The moon was out now, so it wasn't like he thought that it had only been a couple of minutes. It would take awhile to get across the lake, but not five hours. How long had he been lying there? With a tight-lipped grimace, he glanced back down at the radio.

"You still haven't answered me," Prompto pointed out. "Why didn't you contact me sooner? I've been worried out of my mind. I thought you were dead or something." Now he sounded even more worried, and maybe a little bit sad.

Gladio wanted to answer, but he also didn't. Prompto was worried now, but he was the type of person who, if he found out what had happened, would probably panic even more. Still, if Gladio wasn't honest, Prompto would probably feel worse if he ever found out. Gladio was a pretty bad liar, anyway, and while Prompto didn't really have his people skills, the kid wasn't stupid.

So, with a resigned sigh, he answered. "I'm not really sure what happened," he told Prompto honestly as he took a seat on a rock a couple of feet away. "I guess I thought I killed the chainsaw guy but I didn't. So, he snuck up on me and hit me on the back of the head. That's the last thing I remember before I woke up here."

Was it a good idea not to mention Ignis? Probably not. On the other hand, maybe it was. Prompto needed to know that they possibly had an ally out there. The kid was tough to kill, sure, but he didn't have the most street smarts in the world. Though, the fact that he'd made it this long—five or six hours, apparently—without guidance from Gladio told him that maybe he wasn't as bad off as he seemed. Regardless, allies were never bad. So, as he squinted against the dark horizon—darkness was worrisome. Darkness meant that it was harder for him to see what was on the way—he called Prompto again.

"We've got allies," he pointed out. "Or, at least, an ally. I ran into this guy named Ignis. Check your phone when we're done and I'll send you the file Cindy sent me on him. Doesn't say much, but he's got Lucian records and they're all classified."

Prompto's reply came after a too-long stretch of silence. Gladio was about to ask if everything was alright, before his voice came back over the line. "I ran into someone, too. A merc who said she was hired to help us. She saved me from another guy in a black ski mask, and she's been with me ever since, so... I believe her, I think." At the very least, he sounded sure.

And it wasn't like they were really in any position to turn down help, either. "Who is she?" he asked. If he got a name, he could have Cindy run a check later.

"Her name's Aranea. She has this spear thing and a grenade launcher and-"

Admittedly, Gladio tuned out the rest of what Prompto said. Aranea. Okay, he recognized _that_ name. Aranea fronted a mercenary force that fled from Niflheim ages ago, and allied themselves with Lucis. She held a vendetta against Niflheim for some reason or another, and Gladio couldn't see her working with them at all. They were drinking buddies. Before she hooked up with Cindy, Gladio was her wing man, and she was his wing woman. Okay, that was good. At the very least, if Prompto wasn't alone, he hadn't gone and done something dumb by allying himself with someone he couldn't trust. How she found her way here, Gladio wasn't sure. Maybe Uncle Regis had hired her or something, or maybe she just followed because she held no love for the empire and this place was obviously heavily influenced by them. Whatever it was, he wasn't complaining. She was here, and she'd help them.

Gladio puffed out a slow breath. "I know Aranea. She's good people. Stick with her 'til I find my way to you, alright?"

"I was planning on it," Prompto answered. "Gladio. She told me she knows where they're keeping Noct..." His tone was scared, more than a little bit worried.

Once again, that presented another worry. If they knew where Noct was and they weren't with him yet, then it couldn't be anywhere good. Prompto would have literally crawled across the frozen tundra on his own to get to Noct if he found out where he was and was physically capable. If there was something keeping from it, it had to be pretty serious.

With that in mind, Gladio asked, "where?"

A sigh was the only thing that came across the line first. "Aranea said that he could be in one of two places. First one is a slaughterhouse that's right past the graveyard in town. Second one is by the lake. A church or something. We've been trying to contact you about some kind of game plan, but since we couldn't figure out where you were, Aranea has us camping out a few meters away from the slaughterhouse, trying to get a good vantage point," Prompto explained.

The radio was overtaken by static, and for a second, Gladio wondered if he lost the signal. A couple of seconds later, though, a second familiar voice came over the line.

"Hey, Big Guy, long time no see," Aranea announced. "Skinny's been worrying his skinny little ass off for the past six hours about you."

Gladio huffed a laugh. "Figures that he'd try and play it off," he replied with a grin. "Thanks for lookin' out for him. He's a tough kid, but he isn't used to workin' on his own. Wonderin' what brings you here, though. Ain't seen you in what, months?"

This silence, Gladio figured, was pretty loaded. Aranea didn't really talk about her work often, and she never gave up her contacts' names, so Gladio didn't expect much. When she did speak up, her answer of, "got hired to come help you guys out. Get intel, kill some crazy folks. Figured it was a once in a lifetime opportunity," was more than Gladio actually expected to get. "So, heard you telling Skinny that you're near the lake?"

It was a loaded question, with an even more loaded answer. He _was _by the lake, but, "on the other side, yeah. Like I told the kid, though, I've got no idea how I got here. Was out cold for it, I think." The hand not on the radio moved to touch the back of his head, and he winced at the contact.__

__"I was about to tell you to be careful around here, but I guess I don't need to." She paused, then hummed a note. "Since you're by the lake, though, you can check the church, right? Like Skinny told you, the info I found says he's either at the slaughterhouse or at the church."_ _

__Gladio hummed an agreeing note. "Yeah, okay. Any idea where near the lake the church is, or-"_ _

__"No," Aranea answered. "Just know that they said near the lake."_ _

__Both helpful and absolutely not. At least Gladio could rest a little easier knowing that the kid had someone smart helping him out, though. Puffing out an audible breath that he was almost sure that Aranea could hear, he tried to shake the headache and skin crawling feeling, to push himself back into focus. Later, he'd worry about whatever was going on with him. Later. Right now, he finally had a location for Noct, and he damn well wasn't going to sit on his ass, stuck on the wrong side of the lake, waiting for someone to take him back to the other side._ _

__As he moved to the shore, he thanked Aranea and told her to call him back if they found anything more. Then, with the call ended, he sighed again and tried to think of a way to get across the river. It honestly didn't look like there was anything around him. Nothing but beach and forest, as far as the eye could see. The darkness of night made it a little bit tougher to tell if it was just poor visibility or that there really wasn't anything there, but Gladio wasn't stupid. He wasn't about to wander around blindly looking for a boat._ _

__While he thought a little more, he glanced back down at the radio in his hand._ _

__Maybe he should have been a little more hesitant, but he couldn't bring himself to. Not really. Ignis had been incredibly helpful before, and despite the fact that he didn't want to travel together, he did say that it made sense for them to help each other. Refusing to psych himself out, or convince himself that it was a bad idea, he started to check different frequencies for Ignis. The man had seemed knowledgeable about the town, so maybe he would at least know where Gladio could find a boat, or another way for him to get across the lake in a hurry._ _

__With each new frequency that Gladio checked, he made the same call. "Amicitia to Scientia, you out there?"_ _

__It took a considerable amount of time; maybe about fifteen minutes or so, for him to finally find the frequency that Ignis was on, but when he got a response, it was breathless, panicked, and Gladio found himself a little bit worried._ _

__"Y-yes?" he gasped out._ _

__Granted Gladio had only met the guy once, when they _had_ met, he was incredibly composed and calm. He'd seemed more or less unshakable. Maybe that was a stupid thought. Everyone could be shaken by something. Everyone had some kind of fear, no matter how cool and confident they seemed. Gladio, for his part, had an irrational fear of being completely submerged or underground, or somewhere that he couldn't easily escape. This wasn't necessarily a fear gasp—for all Gladio knew, he could have caught Ignis on the run or something—but it was hardly the composed impression that he'd gotten from the guy before._ _

__So, when Gladio spoke up next, his words were simple. "Bad time?" he asked._ _

__A breath of humorless laughter, followed by another pair of shallow breaths, came over the line. "Is there ever a good time in situations like this, Gladiolus?" he questioned in return. "But to answer your question, no. Your call simply woke me from a moment's repose. I suppose I owe you a mild debt of gratitude for that. Sleep is less than ideal at present."_ _

__Sleeping. Wherever Ignis was, he'd managed to fall _asleep_? Gladio snorted a half-impressed laugh, and was about to make some kind of joking comment about sleeping in a place like this, but then he remembered that _he'd_ been asleep for six damn hours. All jokes and comments died on his lips, and he glanced out across the lake. "Don't sweat it. Especially since I need to ask you for a favor." Again. Gladio made sure that his tone made no mistake about how he was no more in love with saying it than Ignis more than likely was with hearing it._ _

__"This seems to be a running theme." Ignis' tone was surprisingly calm, and maybe a little bit teasing._ _

__In spite of the night he'd had, Gladio found himself unable to hold back the tiniest, weakest smile at the barb. "Tell me about it," he answered. "If you're busy, I can figure it out myself."_ _

__Ignis' answer was almost instantaneous. "No. What do you need?" he asked._ _

__Well, that was surprising. Even so, Gladio was unable to hold back the tiniest grin. At the very least, it was nice to know that he wasn't working completely on his own. "Somehow," he started, annoyance making him cast his eyes up to the moonlit sky, "I managed to find myself on the other side of the lake. And before you ask, I have no clue how it happened, because I was out. Woke up here." The more he said it, the more the thought of it was unsettling. Pushing it back for now, he breathed in a slow and steadying breath, and looked back down at the lake._ _

__Incredulity filled Ignis' tone when he replied. "The lake. On the _other side_ of the lake?" he asked, incredulity fading into flat out shock._ _

__Gladio laughed a humorless note. "I was just as surprised as you, believe me," he explained. "But yeah. The other side of the lake. Was wondering if you had any idea about a way for me to get back to the other side, or if I'm completely shit outta luck and have to swim it."_ _

__"No! Don't swim it!" The command was spoken in a slightly panicked tone. Seconds later, Ignis' voice calmed just slightly, but he repeated the same command. "Trust me, Gladiolus. Don't swim it. There are things in that water that you don't want to trifle with," he elaborated just a little bit._ _

__Things. Things in the water. Gladio arched an eyebrow, glancing down at the water again. It was murky and a little bit gross, so what kind of things could he possibly be talking about? "Things? Like, fish or turtles or whatever things usually live in fresh water?" Because Gladio wasn't scared of those in the slightest, so if that was the concern, then it really wasn't a big deal. "Or, what, like a sea monster?" It was meant as a joke, and Gladio's laugh hopefully illustrated that._ _

__Except Ignis didn't seem to be laughing, _nor_ did he seem to be correcting Gladio's last claim. "Don't scoff. Trust me. What's inside that lake is no laughing matter," he explained._ _

__A sea monster, though? Like, seriously? There were some pretty shady things happening here, sure, but a sea monster made no sense. "Okay, so... what am I supposed to do, then? My mission's on the other side of the lake. Can't just sit here, and wait for some kind of miracle to bring me back over there, right?" he asked._ _

__Ignis sighed. "You won't have to," he explained, and on the other end of the line, Gladio heard the rustling of movement. Like he was getting up, or something._ _

__"What do you-"_ _

__Feedback took over the line, like the pair of them were trying to talk at the same time, and Gladio let go of the talk button, to let Ignis say what he needed to say. "I know the location of a boat. If you're positive that you're on the other side of the lake, I can go and get the boat, and then take it over to the other side of the lake to pick you up. You _are_ positive, correct?" he asked._ _

__Gladio looked around. Other than the water and the trees, there was pretty much nothing. On the map that Ignis had given him, on the shore, there were several small buildings and a path that led to another part of the village. Was he sure? "As long as the map you gave me is legit? Then yeah. I'm sure," he explained. "There's pretty much nothing over here other than lake and trees, and on the map, there's a lot more activity happening near the shore."_ _

__A sigh came over the radio. "Very well. If you could create a signal fire for me, so that I know where to drive to, that would be incredibly helpful. I'd rather not be on the lake for longer than I have to." There was even more hesitance, more trepidation in his tone than there had been before, and Gladio found himself wondering if there was even more to it than what Ignis had said._ _

__"You don't have to, if you don't want to. I can try and find another way across," Gladio offered, in light of his hesitance._ _

__After a couple of moments worth of hesitation, Ignis answered again. "No. I'll be there. Just work on getting a signal fire together, and whatever you do, I implore you not to go too deep into the water. If you have any trust in me at all, you will trust my word here," he insisted._ _

__There was a question on the tip of Gladio's tongue, wondering exactly what he was so worried about. Alongside that, there was a _worry_ , because in order to get to him, Ignis was _facing_ whatever it was that was making him so hesitant. It wasn't like he had a whole lot more options, though, so he just looked out across the lake, trying to see back to the other side, and hummed an affirmative answer. "Alright," he told Ignis. "But when you get here, I'm gonna need you to tell me what we're sailing out into. Okay?" It made sense, because if it was something they'd need to fight? Gladio wanted to be ready._ _

__It seemed like Ignis understood that much at least, because he answered, "yes. I'm just hoping that I don't run into it before I get to you. I'll be there shortly."_ _

__After a short goodbye, Gladio looked up at the moonlit sky once more, and then down and toward the lake. Okay. Signal fire. There were old pieces of dried driftwood all across the beach, some of it wet and some of it dry. The wet pieces would be good for what he needed them for, so he gathered them up and put them into a small pile with some old, long-dead grass from a patch not too far away. Around the small fire pit went several rocks that he'd found on the beach, to contain it. Reaching into his pack, he found the camp lighter that Uncle Regis had given him the first time that he had taken Gladio and Noct camping almost a decade and a half ago. He lit the fire, and watched as it took almost immediately, burning bright like a small beacon._ _

__It burned bright, and in its light, Gladio could see his skin a little bit better. The unsettled feeling grew a little bit stronger. In the increased light, he could see that he looked a couple of shades paler than normal. Like he usually did when he came down with some kind of cold or flu or something. The crawling feeling under his skin, too, felt a little bit worse in the light._ _

__"Okay, seriously. What in the hell happened to me when I was out?" he asked himself, looking down at his hand and grunting in frustration._ _

__It didn't matter. No cold or flu or whatever was going on with him was going to keep him from doing what he was sent here to do. He'd been through worse, and he'd probably be through worse later in his life. So, he'd suck it up, keep going, and get it done. It was what Amicitias did._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuff is about to get R E A L. :D


	7. Assist

Ignis sighed, a somber sound that echoed a little too loudly out into the cool night around him. What a wake up call, he couldn't help but think as he started climbing down from the sniper post he'd fallen asleep in. Honestly, Ignis couldn't help but wonder how, exactly, he had managed to fall asleep to begin with. Sleep, on missions like this, was something of an elusive beast; something he only allowed himself when he knew for absolute certain that he wasn't going to be ambushed or rushed in any way. A sniper stand, while out of range and out of sight from any and all villagers who might have seen fit to attack, wasn't completely safe. There were still vicious birds, angry bats, animals that were infected with the virus that made all the humans in the town go out of their minds.

As much as Ignis hated it, he was fully, completely, and totally aware of what that virus was. He didn't like to think of the mission that he'd been on for the past two years any more than he liked the fact that it had taken him away from Lucis for exactly that long. Working with Niflheim, allying himself with a country that wouldn't be satisfied unless everyone in the world was one of them—even if it wasn't a _genuine_ alliance—was a horrible feeling. Pretending, faking it, was growing harder and harder every day.

Every day, he wanted to throw the towel in, tell His Majesty that he couldn't do it anymore, and plead for forgiveness. Every time he considered it, though, he reminded himself of the fact that in doing what he was doing, in faking it and researching exactly what Niflheim's plans were undercover, he was saving more lives than he would be at home on His Majesty's research team. In Niflheim, he had access to research materials that he could never find in Lucis, in Insomnia. For all the horrible things that Niflheim was, they were excellent at research; even better at finding research _materials_. Their computer systems were the cream of the crop, and they had access to all of the best chemicals and polymers and things that they tended to hoard from the rest of the world.

While it was good for his job, while he never wanted for anything professionally, it was _horrible_ for his moral compass. Each day that went by, it was harder and harder to look in the mirror, knowing that because he had to stay silent about all of the despicable things that these people were doing behind the scenes—all the tests and all the sacrifices that they put people through—so many died. So many more became brainwashed.

This town was a prime example of that. The Scourge Virus was made of a small parasite, which could be consumed either by injection, or by drinking infected water. Some of the people in Ulwaat—Drautos, namely, as well as several more of the town's leadership—submitted themselves to the injection. The rest, however, were forced into it. A few of Niflheim's top agents had been sent to tamper with the water supply, and while Ignis did what he could to send a warning to the Tenebraen, Lucian, and Accordan governments, the hoops that he had to jump through to make it happen had made it arrive too late. Now, each and every person in this town was infected with a virus that, after its incubation, turned them into willing slaves of the Niflheim empire.

Behind the scenes, in his private time and with his recently-deceased partner, Pelna Khara, Ignis had developed a countermeasure to fend off the virus. The only problem with his countermeasure, though, was that it could only cure one person at a time. The device attacked the parasite head on, hitting it with a dose of powerful light—its main weakness—and disintegrated it into nothing. As much as Ignis wanted to develop a way to get it to the masses, it was incredibly difficult, because it required a direct link to the host.

Now wasn't the time to think of any of that, though. Now was the time to put all of his trifles about assisting Star Corp aside, and go to the docks, take the boat that he knew was there, and go to help Gladiolus.

Honestly, it was a bit of unfair kismet that Gladiolus was here now. Given the feelings—the one-sided love—that Ignis had harbored for the man for the better part of his life, and the fact that he'd always been relegated to the shadows, to secretly watch while the man flirted with man after man who were never deserving of his attention, to have the first real conversation that they ever had, take place in a place like this? It was horrible, it was unfair, and Ignis wished beyond wishing that he had never pushed his way out of the shadows. The shadows were safer. Watching from a distance was safer. Keeping himself from getting attached, from allowing those feelings to affect his judgment... was safer.

It was unfortunate, and a little bit depressing. Watching from a distance for all these years made Ignis feel like these people were almost something of a family to him. A family that he wasn't allowed to speak to, both for their safety and his own. In a way, he saw himself as something of an odd lurker. Someone who knew everything about these people, while they knew nothing about him. Of the three, Noctis knew him the best, and even that was just in passing, from moments that Ignis would pass through His Majesty's office to deliver reports or accept missions. Prompto, he was reasonably certain, had seen him once, and flashed him a smile and a hello, but beyond that, nothing.

Gladiolus, on the other hand... until very recently, Ignis had made a very deliberate point to avoid contact. With feelings in the mix, the insipid attraction that he had, it would be incredibly difficult for him to maintain the detachment he needed. That was evidenced by the fact that he was running through the streets outside of Ulwaat Village, to get a boat and go to save the man from the other side of Lake Ulwaat. He shouldn't have allowed himself to do it, but he couldn't stop himself.

Now, here he was in the thick of things. Here he was, having to lie to Gladiolus about everything in his life, or at least lie by way of omission. Telling the lie about why the two of them couldn't travel together was an unfortunate circumstance and situation that came with the calls from Star Corps' higher ups. He couldn't have Gladiolus there, hearing him talking to Dr. Besithia or that insufferable CEO, Ardyn Izunia. While he was sure that Gladiolus didn't know them, while he was sure that he barely even knew the names, beyond the limited information that his father gave, it wouldn't take much for him to find them.

In fact, he was reasonably certain that Gladiolus had called his contact back in Insomnia and had her look Ignis up in their systems. It wasn't offensive. It was a relief, more than anything. Gladiolus wasn't like Prompto was. Gladiolus didn't put complete and total trust in strangers without at least running some sort of information check on them first.

However, Prompto's trusting nature made it all the easier for Ignis to hire Aranea to find the first of Prompto or Gladio that she crossed paths with and stay with them. Admittedly, he was glad that it was Prompto. The young man's kind heart and trusting nature was a dangerous thing in a place like this, where any given person would readily tear one's throat out without even the slightest provocation. Ignis made a mental note to message Aranea later and tell her to ensure that _she_ stayed safe as well. Not that his friend wasn't a capable woman, but anyone was in danger in a place like this. Especially anyone without Prompto's unique circumstance.

Only His Majesty knew of Ignis' research into the origin of Prompto's capabilities. Much of it was tightly under lock and key, but the very limited amount he could gather had indicated a deep, molecular bond with the Scourge Virus. One that absolved him of all mind control vulnerability, and gave him enhanced strength, dexterity, and the ability to regenerate quickly from the gravest of wounds. He wasn't sure about how or why Prompto was so bonded with the virus, but he _did_ know that it was fused with Prompto's DNA in his infancy. There were only two cases of this particular bond, and the second such carrier was mostly undocumented. Or, at the very least, not in any of the documentation that Ignis had found so far. It wasn't abnormal for Star to hide things like this under encryptions, to the point that no one, unless they had the highest clearance level, could access them.

No matter what Ignis tried, he couldn't get _that_ level of clearance. He did, however, have clearance enough to be sent to Ulwaat for something of a 'progress report' on the village's infection level. So far, that had allowed him to hide Prompto and Gladiolus' presence in the town. However, he'd have to get slightly more creative now, given that Drautos most likely knew that Gladiolus was there. Drautos would, almost definitely, report back to Izunia. What that meant for Ignis and his personal mission to ensure Prompto and Gladiolus' safety was currently unknown. He was adept enough at improvisation, however, for it not to matter.

As though sensing Ignis' current thought process, his phone went off in his pocket. A glance at the screen had his lip curling at the sight of Izunia's name. A video call. Astrals preserve him, did Ignis hate that man. Temptation was there, as it always was, to ignore it. He didn't, though. Lowering a gloved hand, he tapped the accept button, before ducking into a nearby storage shed to keep out of sight of any villagers who may have happened by.

"Yes?" Ignis greeted coldly.

Izunia's golden eyes assessed him through the screen, and when he spoke, the insincerity in his tone was as thick as honey. "You're looking rather discomposed, Scientia," he commented.

Keeping himself level, though maintaining the cold disconnect that he always had whenever he spoke with Izunia, Ignis shrugged an eyebrow. "Are you calling simply to provide me with a mirror, Izunia? Or is there a purpose for this disruption?" he asked.

A brusque laugh was Izunia's only response, initially. The sound made Ignis really wish that it wouldn't blow his whole undercover mission to put a fist in the man's face, but rather than allow himself to focus on that for too long, he simply eyed his phone as Izunia seemed to lean forward and type on his computer.

"Of course not," Izunia answered. "Pardon the intrusion. I merely wished to inform you that we have a minor problem."

Immediately, Ignis knew exactly what had happened. Izunia didn't need to say another word. Someone, likely Drautos, had informed him of Gladiolus and Prompto's presence on the island, and though the pair of them were hardly a _minor_ problem, with their combined strength, it made perfect sense that Izunia would see them as such. The man's ego was boundlessly overinflated, and it always made Ignis' job all the more difficult.

Still, he didn't let his annoyance, or the fact that he was concerned for Gladiolus and Prompto, show in his expression. "What is the problem?" he asked.

"A pair of Lucians," Izunia started, immediately confirming Ignis' suspicion, "have arrived in Ulwaat to rescue their precious prince. One of them is a minor problem. Drautos has already seen to injecting him with a special strain of Scourge, so as soon as it latches on and incubates, he will be even _less_ of an issue. A willing subservient of his caliber should round our ranks nicely."

The pause that Izunia gave there almost seemed like he was leading Ignis somehow. Looking for some sort of reaction—any sort of reaction—almost as though he was suspicious. Problematic, but not unmanageable. All Ignis had to do was not react. Not the easiest thing in the universe, but doable all the same. Though he was screaming on the _inside_ , he did his best not to let it show on the outside. Gladiolus was infected. Drautos had injected him with the virus. As Ignis' heart sank through his chest and to the pit of his stomach, somehow, he found a way to keep his face level.

It wasn't the easiest calm he'd ever had to project, but he did it. "And the other?" he asked.

"Slightly more troublesome," Izunia explained. "The boy is one of the freed infants from the bonding program. One of Besithia's Special Two. The more successful of the two. As such, I've amended your mission."

Prompto, of course. The special two referred to Prompto and the second, mystery boy, who had been deemed a failure a half-decade before Prompto's own experiment had even started. That, and the fact that he'd been rescued by Tenebrae, much the same way Prompto had been rescued by Lucis, were all that Ignis knew about the second of the aptly titled Special Two.

As such, Ignis didn't need to look at the mission report to know what he'd amended the mission to. "I'm going to assume that you're expecting me to eliminate the boy," he answered. "As far as I know, the Special Two are nigh impossible to harm lastingly. How, exactly, do you expect me to accomplish this?"

The question was, of course, loaded. Ignis was only asking because he was assuming that Izunia had asked Drautos and Ulldor to undertake this mission as well. If Izunia told him of a way to harm Prompto lastingly, Ignis could relay the information to Aranea, and have her relay the information to Prompto. It didn't seem like fate was on his side this time, because Izunia merely hummed a mockingly gentle note of amusement and shrugged his head to the side.

"You're an intelligent man, Scientia," Izunia spoke, though the compliment in his tone was extremely backhanded, sarcastic. "I'm sure you'll figure something out. You are not to return to Gralea until the boy is attended to. As you seek the boy out, I request that you kindly tag alongside the other—a Crownsguard agent by the name of Amicitia—while he wanders Ulwaat. We'll want to brief our newest agent on his mission, will we not?"

It was far more difficult than usual for Ignis not to make some sort of comment. If there was any possible way that Izunia could have possibly known about his feelings, his attachment to Gladiolus and to Prompto, he'd have allowed himself to think that this was a taunt, or a test of his loyalty. There was no way, though. Months ago, he and Pelna had instituted a weekly sweep of all of their equipment. They checked it all for things like bugs, or wires that hadn't been there before. After Pelna had contacted him the day before yesterday to explain that he'd been caught, that he'd been attacked by one of the undead that Niflheim had released in one of the smaller Accordan towns and he was done for, Ignis had done a sweep of his own things. Nothing was out of place, and they'd all been on him since.

Unless there was some greater, grander way for them to spy, there was legitimately no way for them to know. It was just unfortunate circumstance. Much of his life was unfortunate circumstance lately, truthfully.

Ignis nodded once, a simple and stiff nod. "If that is my assignment, then I will carry it out. If there is nothing else?" he half-requested. He really just wanted to get the hell off the phone and not to have to hear Izunia's voice anymore.

With a shake of his head, Izunia smiled a sinuous smile and gestured for Ignis to move with a flick of his hand. "Not a thing. I will expect progress reports, of course, but other than that," he chirped, like he was talking to a child, "you are free to go." And without waiting for a reply, he ended the call.

As Ignis turned his phone's screen off, he allowed the panic to fully set in. Gladiolus was infected. That likely meant that they'd infected Noctis, too. Shaking his head no, he reached into his pack and rifled around, pulling out two small pill bottles. Suppressants that Pelna had developed months ago. Ignis had brought them along, on the off chance that he was caught by a villager—or Drautos, for that matter—and injected with the Scourge. If he gave one bottle to Gladiolus and the other to Noctis when they found him, and if the two men kept up with the once-every-six-hour dose that they needed to take, then Ignis could get them both to Gralea, where his cure machine was.

_Things just got infinitely more complicated,_ he mused internally with a sigh, but even as he thought it, he stepped out of the shed where he'd taken Izunia's call and hurried toward the lake.

_Infinitely_ more complicated. Now he _needed_ to stay with Gladiolus. If Izunia called and they weren't together, suspicion would only grow. He'd only been partially lying when he told Gladiolus that he worked better on his own. There had been a long stretch of time before he'd been comfortable working with Pelna. Now, Pelna was dead, and he was being forced into a partnership with the man for whom he'd been harboring feelings for years. More of that unfair kismet rearing its head.

Once he arrived at the small, dilapidated boathouse, he cased the area closely. It was hooked to a small dock on the other side, and the boat that the villagers likely used to bring Gladiolus to the other side of the lake was still tied up, floating a few feet away from the dock. His main options were to either use his hookshot or pick the lock. While picking the lock might have been less effort, he wanted to leave the least trail possible behind him. The roof looked partially rotted out, so if he could find a compromised spot to drop down into the boathouse itself, no one would ever be the wiser.

With his hookshot out and aimed, Ignis fired, pulled himself up, and then deftly flipped with the landing to stand on the rooftop.

The roof was further rotted than he thought it would be, honestly. As he looked, he noticed a couple of places where he could jump down. Moving slowly toward one of them, he dropped down into the boathouse and looked around. It was empty, mostly, save for some old tools and broken down boat parts. Through the open garage door on the other end, he saw the boat padlocked to the pier, and realized that he would need to pick a lock after all. _It's fine,_ he told himself. _I just have to be certain that I lock it back in place when I get back here._

The intricate lockpicking kit was a gift from His Majesty. A thank you to Ignis for always doing everything in his power to assist the crown. It was of Lucian make, and most of the time, Ignis had to keep it under wraps. The Lucian steel wasn't something readily available in Niflheim, or even in Tenebrae. Accordo, perhaps, was easier. Not by much, however, and it just drove home the fact that he couldn't use them openly anywhere else.

It took a few tries, but he finally unlocked and opened the padlock. The lock itself found its way into one of the front pouches of his pack, to be returned to place when he and Gladiolus found their way back to shore. The chain came into the boat with him. Now, all that was left was to hot wire the boat and cross the lake. Ignis despised this lake. His severe case of hydrophobia aside, all documentation stated that there were many, many horrible things that lived in there. Scourge-inflicted aquatic-dwelling creatures, who had been docile before, turned into predatory beasts. Most of them were terrified of coming to surface. The Scourge developed slower in the light, and when it was fully developed, creatures infected were weakened by daylight or moonlight.

There was one particular Scourged lake-dwelling species that wasn't afraid of surfacing at all, though. The sahagin that lived in the lake were vicious even _before_ they were Scourged. There were species' of sahagin who lived in Lucis that were prime examples of now terrible the creatures could be. When inflicted with the Scourge, that ferocity increased tenfold. That was all Ignis could think about as he hot wired the boat.

Even without the threat of the sahagin, though, this was not where Ignis wanted to be. When he finished hot wiring the boat, he realized that he needed to act quickly. The motor was not quiet at all, and it sounded off loudly enough to gather attention from anyone who may have been in the area. The first to come to mind were the people who had brought Gladiolus out to the other side of the lake in the first place, but Ignis allowed himself the tiniest bit of hope that they wouldn't be there; that they'd have run off. Whether they had or not, Ignis didn't want to be here any longer than he had to.

So, off he took, his heart threatening to pound out of his chest at the mere thought of being on the lake. With eyes on the horizon, he looked for any sign of a signal fire. The villagers weren't exactly the most intelligent people—likely because they were all under Drautos' command—so Ignis hardly expected Gladiolus to be far from a straight shot across the river.

As it turned out, he was a combination of right and wrong. The smoke from the signal fire stood out against the moonlit sky, and called his attention from the horizon. It was still a ways away—he wasn't even halfway across the lake yet—but it was still a bit of a relief to see. It was about a half mile away from being a straight shot, and Ignis found himself wondering if that was where the villagers had placed him, or if he had voluntarily left where they'd put him. If he had, it was a wise choice. As far as Gladiolus knew, there was no guarantee that they wouldn't send a team, or worse, a creature, to ensure that he wasn't a threat. The only reason that Ignis knew was because of Izunia's word.

If anything in this situation could be taken as a solace, Ignis decided, it was the fact that Gladiolus was an intelligent man. Intelligent, and commonly underestimated from what Ignis remembered. The very moment he allowed himself to feel relief, however, was the moment that he realized that something was wrong.

The bubbles on the surface of the water shouldn't have caught his attention like they did, but they had. The very second he spotted them, he was on high alert. It wasn't normal for bubbles to keep pace with a boat that was going over fifty miles an hour, but these ones were. And then some. Ignis tensed, flicking his eyes to the opposite shore. He was closer to that shore than the first, but definitely far enough to be concerned. Turning the wheel just slightly, in hopes of throwing the bubble-making creature off a little bit, he headed a little bit closer to Gladiolus' signal fire. The initial plan had been to cut straight across and then walk the distance, but with the bubbles closing in, Ignis was rapidly realizing that it wasn't an option. So, he drove faster. The needle was buried, but the speedometer cut off at seventy, and while Ignis usually hated driving fast like this, he really did not want to be in this water at all anymore.

It ended up not mattering.

At the first sound of growling, Ignis knew that his fear had been legitimate. Casting his eyes to the opposite side of the boat, the pair of long, reptilian jaws caught his attention as they poked out of the water. He cursed. Off the fore of the boat, he could see Gladiolus' signal fire, and he watched as the man turned to face the boat, then rushed to the shore, his arms raised in warning.

But Ignis knew. He tried to put the worry out of his mind as he cut the wheel sharply, taking his foot from the gas and, putting his hands on his crossbow, taking aim at the bubbles. He'd shoot as soon as it came up. The rear view mirror showed another gathering of bubbles on the starboard side of the boat, and he figured that he'd have to turn quickly after he took out the first creature.

Seconds later, the first of the creatures surfaced. The first bolt that Ignis fired hit it square in the eye, causing it to recoil and duck back underwater to regroup. Ignis turned, focusing on the second sahagin now, and firing as it came out of the water. It recoiled as well, and he took the chance to get back to the wheel and speed off toward the shore. The bubbles were still in his rear view mirror, but at least now he'd managed to put a little more distance between himself and them now. The return trip would be slightly dicier, but at the very least, he'd have Gladiolus with him to fire at any that managed to get close.

Astrals, did he hate this situation. He hadn't even taken the chance to think of how he was going to request to travel with Gladiolus, after being so standoffish about it earlier.

When he stopped the boat, he noticed that the bubbles, while still floating to the surface, were far enough away for him not to have to worry. He dropped the anchor into the shallows so that the boat didn't get away, climbed out, and turned to start toward the fire. Except, he didn't even make it two steps before a hand, warm and solid, grasped his shoulder. Ignis turned, catching sight of those warm brown eyes, and fighting hard against the urge to smile.

"Are you alright?!" Gladiolus opened the conversation. "What were those things?"

Ignis hummed an emotionless note, keeping his back turned from the water. Sahagin could come on land, but he knew that they would wait. The Scourge made them smarter, after all. Instead, he took the chance to finally look Gladiolus over. His skin, while appearing mostly normal to the untrained and unfamiliar eye, looked slightly pallid to Ignis, and it was then that he realized that Izunia had not been kidding. They'd infected him. Ignis' heart sank all over again, but he tried with all his ability to keep it from showing on his face.

Admittedly, it was proving difficult this time. "I will tell you, if you take a short break with me by that signal fire. I will fill you in on everything I know, okay?" he offered. Maybe it was a bit selfish, but he couldn't help it. Between his hydrophobia and the sahagin, he very much needed a short break.

"Yeah, alright," Gladiolus answered. "C'mon. Got some granola and jerky in my pack. You could probably use a bite, too, right? And I owe you more than one, now."

Granola and jerky was hardly a desirable meal, but given the circumstance, it wasn't as though there was anything else he could whip together. So, with that in mind, he took the chance afforded by the short walk to Gladiolus' signal fire to compose his mind and figure out exactly how he was supposed to break it to the man he'd been in love with for years, that he was infected with a virus that only Ignis could help him suppress, and that only a machine in Gralea could cure for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOO BOY, WRITING IGNIS HERE WAS A CHALLENGE. Hope you guys like!


	8. Cooperation

How telling Gladiolus about the sahagin turned into telling him all about Star Corps and Ignis' own double-agent ties with the corporation, Ignis wasn't sure. It had, though. Maybe it was his exhaustion. Maybe it was the fact that he'd just faced his greatest fear. Or, more likely, it was the one-sided affection that he felt for the man keeping him from being the slightest bit covert. The same thing that brought him from the shadows to begin with. The same thing that brought him across the whole bloody village to hurry to Gladiolus' aid. Insipid emotion overruling logic and intellect. Even Ignis wasn't immune to that, it seemed.

Whatever had caused it to happen, the truth spilled out onto the beach in front of him as he intermittently ate the granola that Gladiolus had presented to him. That he was a Lucian, that His Majesty had sent him to Niflheim two years ago to spy and gather information on what the empire planned, that this town was infected with the Scourge. He'd even gone so far as to explain that he created a countermeasure. At the very end of his explanation, he explained to Gladiolus that Ignis himself had been injected and infected at one point, in an attempt to assure loyalty, but used his own body to test the machine. Of course, the truth was wise, but he hadn't meant to tell that much truth.

The most disconcerting thing about the situation was Gladiolus' silence. He sat in the sand, jerky sealed and slid into his pack, and Ignis could almost see the gears in his head turning. His eyes stayed on the fire for a few more seconds, before turning to glance at Ignis.

"Why'd you tell me all this, though? You don't owe me a damn thing." Gladiolus huffed a humorless laugh, the question in his expression fading to a half-amused shrug of his head. "If anything, I owe you."

Ignis, still overwhelmed by his own candidness, glanced up from the bag of granola to meet Gladiolus' gaze. "Because Izunia's orders are for me to follow you." Pausing briefly, he glanced back down at the sand. "And to bring you in when the strain of Scourge that Drautos injected you with incubates." Even repeating the words had his heart sinking.

The silence that came as response forced Ignis' eyes up from the sand. Gladiolus was staring at him, wide-eyed, and then he turned to glance back down at his arms. "Wait... the strain of... what?" he asked. "They-"

With a frown on his face, Ignis nodded, and reached into his own pack. "I was supposed to accompany you under a guise of being on your side," he explained, fishing one bottle of pills from his pack and holding them in his hand. "Waiting for the parasite to incubate and turn you into a willing slave. I couldn't. That... it's the limit that my conscience will allow..." He shook his head, a mix of embarrassment and sadness keeping him from finishing the sentence.

Gladiolus didn't speak. Wide brown eyes were still on his arms, like he could physically see the parasite, but after a few seconds, his gaze shot back up to look at Ignis. Questioning. Imploring for _some_ sort of answer.

"These," Ignis started, "will suppress the parasite." He passed the pills over to Gladiolus and watched as the man looked the bottle over in uncertainty. "You'll need to take two every six hours. My partner developed them before he passed away. It was never truly asked of us; we were only supposed to investigate. Together, however, we dedicated our spare time to undermining the empire's plans. Pelna developed these. I developed my cure."

No answer came from Gladiolus still.

"I am aware that I have given you no real reason to trust me. In fact, in telling you the truth, I have more than likely given you a dozen reasons not to, but-"

Before he could finish speaking, though, Gladiolus opened the bottle, shook two pills into his hand, and downed them. After drinking some water from a water bottle he pulled from his pack, he turned to look at Ignis. "You've given me no reason _not_ to trust you, more like," he finally spoke up. "It's probably dumb. Dangerous. But you've done nothin' but help me from the beginning. I trust you, Iggy."

The nickname took him by complete surprise, and all he could do was blink a couple of times. Very few people were familiar enough with him to call him by a nickname, and even those who were, didn't. Pelna had been an exception; it had taken an act of Bahamut to convince the man to _stop_ calling him 'Specs,' and that had only lasted for a week. Hearing it from Gladiolus, though... it wasn't so bad. Meeting Gladiolus' gaze again, Ignis allowed the smallest smile to cross his face. Seconds later, it faded, though; curled down into a frown, and his eyes followed, glancing over at the fire. He sighed. While it was good, there was too much bad around them for Ignis to allow himself to enjoy it like he wanted to. Like he'd dreamed about every night for years.

As he closed the granola bag, Ignis heaved a slow and exhausted sigh. "A problem still remains," he pointed out.

"I mean, tons of problems still remain," Gladiolus responded with a gentle, humorless laugh. "I'm infected, apparently. This whole town is infected. This infection _exists_ to begin with. Plus, I still need to get to Noct."

And that was the problem. "Yes, and that simply adds to the problem, Gladiolus. I'm under the impression that Prince Noctis is infected as well. If he is, I suspect that he's been infected for longer than you have, which means that the parasite is even closer to incubation. It takes a little more than a week for a Scourge parasite to fully incubate, which still gives us plenty of time to find him and cure you both, but we must act quickly." It didn't even occur to him at the moment, that he'd been referring to the pair of them as a unit.

Gladiolus' expression wilted as well, and he nodded a miserable nod. "Yeah, that occurred to me, too. So, are you gonna come with me, then? To the church to get him?"

At first, Ignis didn't answer. His orders were to stay. To accompany Gladiolus as he navigated the village and fought the cultists, to ensure that he survived the parasite's incubation process. Was there any reason that he couldn't accompany Gladiolus and do the opposite? Couldn't he assure that Gladiolus remembered to take the suppressant pills every six hours? Of course, there was the piece of him that hadn't been lying before, the piece of him that truly _did_ work better on his own. However, Gladiolus was an incredibly capable man. He was strong, intelligent, and he had brilliant survival skill. Would it truly hold Ignis back, to have Gladiolus watching his back?

"Listen," Gladiolus broke his thought process by speaking up. "No one really works better alone, Iggy. Having someone else back you means that sometimes you get a second opinion. Right? And that there's someone to watch your back." He paused. "Ain't sayin' you're not capable. You're obviously more than capable, but anything can happen. Pretty sure I'm proof of that."

Ignis couldn't help but sigh. He was right, of course. Anything could happen. Running a hand down his face, he sighed a hard and heavy note. "The only problem is the Star Corps CEO. Izunia," he explained. "He wants me to check in with him periodically. Give him progress reports on you and-"

Gladiolus shrugged. "So, do it. We can use it to our advantage," he explained. "When you call him, I either hide or play up the infection thing. Make 'im think you're doing what he asks, and then maybe when we finish here, we can go back to Gralea. Cure me and Noct, and then take you back home to Insomnia," he suggested. "You've had it rough. Bet goin' home sounds damn good." There was a tiny little grin on his face. It was laced with sympathy around the edges, a gentle understanding, as he shrugged his head to the side.

Did going home sound good?  By the grace of the Six, did it ever.

With a soft laugh, Ignis nodded his head. "Indeed. I've almost forgotten what it looks like."

Not true, not even close. Ignis remembered every detail of Insomnia like it was etched into his mind. Sometimes, having an eidetic memory was a bit of a curse. When he couldn't forget hard moments of his life, or faces of people who had wronged him, sometimes he wished that his memory was normal. On the other end of the spectrum, though, when it came to remembering things like Insomnia, and all the things he really missed about the place, it was a blessing. He remembered his apartment, on the highest floor of one of the Insomnian high rise apartment buildings, and the balcony that overlooked the city. The way the sky looked like when lit by a plethora of stars. Bits of ocean visible over the walls. The lights in the buildings.

Some nights the memories were all that got him through.

He turned his head back to look at Gladiolus. "How do you propose we use this situation to our advantage?" he asked. "Izunia is hardly stupid, unfortunately, so it wouldn't be as simple as 'make him think I'm doing as he asks.'"

Gladiolus shrugged his shoulders. "When you call to make your progress reports, we tell him that I told you I'd lead you to Prompto. Tell him you told me some 'bogus story' about bein' backup sent by King Regis or somethin', right? And then after that, we lie more and tell him that you killed Prompto. Gives us the upper hand to get the hell outta here with Noct undetected. Prompto sneaks out with Noct, you tell whoever you need to tell that you're bringin' me to this Izunia guy. We go to Gralea, all four of us. Noct and me get cured. We all get the hell outta dodge and go home, then figure out what the fuck to do from there." With a shrug, he turned to look at Ignis with questioning eyes, likely wondering what he thought of the plan.

Ignis glanced at the granola in his hands for a moment as he pondered the suggestion. Admittedly, it was a decently reasonable plan. It would take a lot of clever talking, and even more meticulously careful planning, but if Ignis took the necessary precautions, then they could absolutely make it work. He turned his eyes up to glance at Gladiolus once more. It was a curious thing, that a man who was usually so suspicious of everything seemed to be so open to taking Ignis' advice and aiding him without too much second thought. Ignis himself would likely not have been as kind if roles were reversed.

Meeting the warm brown eyes, he decided to comment on it. "I must admit to a touch of curiosity," Ignis started, sealing the bag of granola as he turned to glance at Gladiolus. "I would hardly expect a man as battle trained as you are to put your trust in a stranger so readily."

Gladiolus laughed a soft note and shrugged his shoulders. "Normally, I wouldn't. I probably shouldn't right now," he explained. "But you've done nothin' but stick your neck out for me. Back in the village, you could've shot me in the back like five different times. Could've left me over here to rot, too. Or not warned me about not swimmin' in the water." He pointed at the lake with his thumb.

"Perhaps, but all of that could merely be a ruse. For all you know, I merely protected and assisted you because I'm serving Izunia's whims."

Was that something that Ignis should have pointed out? Probably not. Perhaps that was a bit of deterioration in his social graces, having been in Niflheim, in Gralea, for as long as he had. Or perhaps it was just him wishing that Gladiolus wasn't in this predicament. More than likely, it was a little bit of both. Both, plus a touch of genuine surprise that things had gone so smoothly. Ignis had fully expected to be called a liar or a snake for hiding that he was working with Star Corps. Perhaps that was only his own projection of the situation, though.

It seemed as though Gladiolus held none of the same qualms. Or, at the very least, he hid them very well. "Ain't like I have a ton of options right now. I'm infected. Whether you told me or not, I'd have to be an idiot not to notice that something was wrong with me." He frowned. "And you said you're the only one who knows where the cure is. I'm not the smartest person out there, but I'm not stupid, either. If it comes down to takin' help and havin' a chance to survive, or not takin' help and just lettin' whatever this is kill me and Noct both? I'd say it's a pretty obvious choice."

While it wasn't a ringing declaration of trust, Ignis was almost gladder that it wasn't. "For what it's worth?" he started as he stood, offering the bag of granola back over to Gladiolus. "I will do everything in my power to ensure that you and Prince Noctis both see the other side of this, Gladiolus," he insisted with an honest smile.

"Gladio," Gladiolus spoke again, as he stood and took the granola, putting it back into his pack. "Call me Gladio, okay? If we're gonna be workin' together, you don't wanna be all formal with me, do you? And Noct'll make all kinds of weird disapproving noises if you call him 'Prince Noctis.' Trust me. You don't want that. Or maybe you do. Just once, to see how hilarious it is." The joke was accompanied by a quirk of a grin that made Ignis' insides flutter a bit.

Ignis turned, refusing to allow Gladiolus—Gladio, as he insisted upon being called—to see the red that had to be creeping up to his cheeks, if the heat under his skin was any indication. "I suppose it's only fair, with you deciding to call me 'Iggy,' and all, right?" Fortunately, his social graces hadn't fallen so far that he didn't sound like he was joking. At least, he hoped not.

When Gladio laughed, that was only confirmed. "Yeah. The whole formal thing ain't me," he announced, as he kicked some sand onto the fire to drown it out. "So, to the church, then? To see if Noct's there?"

To the church. Which meant riding over the lake again. "I suppose, since I'm being wholly candid with you, now would likely be an opportune moment to inform you of my rather severe case of hydrophobia," he spoke. "And the fact that the sahagin that I had to evade to get here appear to be waiting just outside of the shallows is _not_ making that easier."

"It's okay," Gladio reassured him. "On the way back, you just focus on drivin' the boat and gettin' us there in one piece, okay? I'll worry about the fish reptile things. Or whatever the hell they are." He turned out toward the bubbles in the water, squinting against the darkness to try and get a good look. Shaking his head, he took a couple of steps past Ignis and pulled a pair of binoculars from his hip. He flipped a switch on them and pulled them up to his face. "Heat signature's a little higher on the sahagin. That a side effect of the Scourge virus?" he asked.

Humming an affirmative answer, Ignis pulled in a breath through his nose. "Anything Scourge infected is quite a bit warmer than it would normally be." His eyes wandered Gladio's body, the slight pallid tone to his skin, and he frowned. More of that unfair kismet. Instead of making him sad for long, though, it simply sparked that much more determination in him. He _would_ get Gladio and Noctis to Gralea. He _would_ cure them.

When he glanced Gladio's way again, he saw that Gladio was holding his hand in front of the binoculars and frowning. Just as quickly he shook the frown off, turning to look back at the sahagin again, and then turned toward Ignis. "So, the church then." His expression was a little bit less certain than before, and Ignis had to assume that it had to do with the fact that he had the damned virus running through his system. That would make just about anyone uncertain.

Nodding, Ignis started toward the boat, his hand on his crossbow. "I should warn you," he told Gladio. "The Scourge makes the villagers all the more vicious at night. I am fully aware that they aren't exactly a picnic during the day, but it's not outside of the realm of possibility that we will be ambushed on the way to the church. You won't take issue with putting some of them down if we have to, I assume."

Gladio shook his head no. "I'm fine," he explained, taking off toward the boat. "A life lived as a servant to someone else isn't somethin' I wanna live. If it came down to that, I'd wanna be put down." The words were spoken casually, but knowing what Ignis knew, and what Gladio knew now, too, there was a darker, more dismal tone to them.

It was almost like they were equal parts passing statement and informing Ignis of his wishes. A pang of sadness rose in Ignis' chest, but at the same time, he absolutely understood. He felt much the same. If he hadn't cured himself when he'd had the Scourge inflicted on him, he'd asked Pelna to put him down. Of course, he was endlessly grateful that it had worked. He didn't want to die more than anyone else did. But...

"Some fates are worse than death," Gladio spoke, turning to glance over his shoulder at Ignis, almost as though he was taking the words right from Ignis' mind.

Ignis nodded, though it was a sad, somber and bitter nod. "I understand," he replied, telling Gladio that not only did he truly understand what he was saying, but the undertones of it, too. While he _did_ understand, though, he turned his head and looked away as he followed behind Gladio to the boat. It wasn't something he wanted to entertain, but he _did_ understand it. "It won't come to that, though." Perhaps it was a heavy promise, but it was one that he was willing to make.

Gladio shrugged one shoulder as he climbed into the boat and reached a hand down to help Ignis up, too. "I know. You'll help," he replied with a calm shrug.

With a nod, Ignis reached up, placing a gloved hand in Gladio's hand. Strong. Warm. Warmer than Ignis had always imagined them to be, though he was fully aware of the fact that it had more to do with the fact that the Scourge parasite was running through his body than anything else. Neither of them said anything else as Ignis stepped up to the steering wheel and hot wired the boat all over again. Gladio watched him, clearly surprised that he possessed the skill to hot wire a boat, and then smiled a slightly impressed smile when he stepped away.

"Wouldn't take you for someone who knows how to hot wire," he chuckled, amused.

Ignis allowed himself the tiniest of amused smiles. "Get to know me," he replied coyly as he turned the steering wheel and got them back on the lake. "I'm full of surprises."

The smirk that Gladio flashed back at him made him smirk even more in return. "I'll keep that in mind," he answered. "You just drive. I'll take these fucks down." And without another word, he aimed his shotgun at the water to fire at the sahagin when they resurfaced.

Resurface they did, and very quickly. The bubbles closed in on the boat as they moved across the lake, and while Ignis would have panicked normally, it was a bit of a relief to know that someone else was at his back. Gladio seemed to effortlessly fend off each of the creatures as they surfaced from the lake. One, two, three went down, and Ignis felt a brief flash of victory with each one. It was a shotgun, so it wasn't as though Gladio had to be perfectly accurate with each and every shot, but the creatures had been a constant source of anxiety for Ignis every single time he looked at the lake. After this, he was relatively certain that he would never have to return to the lake again, and he was sure that for every single one that Gladio killed, there were a dozen more swimming around under the water, but he still couldn't help a slight feeling of victory. Cold comfort victory, perhaps, but victory all the same.

Gladio must have killed about a half dozen of them before the boat finally reached shore. When Ignis turned and looked back, a second feeling of triumph washed over him at the sight of all of the sahagin corpses floating on top of the lake. Perhaps a disgusting thing to feel triumph over, but he couldn't help it. The pair of them left the boat, and Ignis took a second to chain and lock the boat back in place, the exact same way it had been when he took it, while Gladio stood watch, looking through the barred window of the boathouse.

"Honestly, barring a window to a boathouse is all kinds of suspicious," Gladio mused in a hushed whisper as he pressed his hand against the wall and looked around. "Almost like they're askin' people to look around in here. I'd say it made sense, to keep kids away from the sahagin, but for one, I haven't seen a single kid in the whole damn village, and for two, there's a whole shit ton of beach right outside the place, so anyone who they were _tryin'_ to protect probably wouldn't end up too protected." He laughed a bitter note.

Ignis hummed his agreement. "There's something that you will rapidly learn, the longer we're here," he explained as he finished sealing the padlock. "The only villagers who use any semblance of common sense are the village leaders. Drautos and Ulldor are as cagey as they are vicious. The rest of the villagers, however, are closer to drones than they are to people. They obey orders to a fault."

Frowning, Gladio nodded. "Kinda got that impression back in the village proper. The houses didn't look like houses. They looked like 'places to go when we're not working.' Makes me wonder what they were like on the inside," he murmured.

"Hardly worthy of being called houses. I've seen them closely enough to know that there are only very basic things inside. Fabric that the citizens try to pass off as bedding, rotting walls, broken food storage units... the type of squalor that one would only expect to see in one of those heart-wrenching television commercials that try to pull your heartstrings, except it's quite real."

Gladio grunted his disapproval. "And they're all too fuckin' brainwashed to complain," he seethed.

With a nod, Ignis sighed a soft note as he approached the hole in the ceiling that he'd dropped down through. "None of them even realize that it's happening," he countered, handing the hookshot over to Gladio. "It's among my greatest wishes to find a way to cure the masses. Right now, that's nothing but a pipe dream, however. For now... it's enough to cure both you and Noctis."

Smirking as he took the hookshot from Ignis' hand, Gladio glanced up at the ceiling. "Real bleeding heart, aren't you? Wouldn't've suspected that, either." And without another word, he fired at the ceiling and pulled himself up, using the same amount of effort as he'd used earlier. Maybe a little more, with his recent injury. He didn't let it show, though; just turned back to look at Ignis again.

"As I told you," Ignis murmured as Gladio dropped the hookshot back down to him. "I'm full of surprises."

The grin on Gladio's face then was a mix between entertained and intrigued. "Startin' to see that," he agreed.

Ignis grinned, then cast his eyes down to the ground, before looking at the ceiling—pointedly avoiding Gladio's gaze—and firing the hookshot at the ceiling. Once he flipped with the landing, and Gladio made a playful comment about how he missed his calling as an acrobat. The pair of them laughed gently, as Ignis moved toward the edge of the rooftop and looked down. The darkness made it nigh impossible to see, and frustration crept around the amusement as he slid his hookshot back into its holster. "Visibility is poor," he pointed out.

"It's nighttime," Gladio countered, taking his binoculars out and taking a look around. "Got multiple human shaped signatures coming from both directions. Got a feeling they noticed the commotion."

Of course they had. Sahagin were hardly quiet creatures, and there had been several of them swimming around and surfacing. The boat was loud and likely would have been enough to alert them on its own. It was okay. It was still manageable. "The church," he explained, "is to the east. If we take this path, we can either fight or evade the people on this side. I suppose that decision will come down to how many there are. We'll have to move quickly, however, to avoid the ones on the other side."

It was rather astounding, how quickly Ignis was adapting to working with another person. Perhaps more, or perhaps less, astounding was the fact that Gladio seemed to be adapting to the partnership just as well. Just as soon as Ignis made the suggestion, Gladio lowered himself down over the edge and to the ground. Ignis followed suit, dropping down to the ground, and silently directing Gladio to follow him into the shadows. Then, the pair of them hurried silently toward the church, in hopes of finding the lost prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dramatic reverb*
> 
> Where's Noct? :o At the slaughterhouse or the church???


	9. Assembly

The road to the slaughterhouse was long, winding, and eerily empty so far. Most of the town got really quiet once night fell, actually. Aranea had told Prompto that they needed to stay off the main path, but be very wary in the wooded area off to the side as well, which was a bit of weird advice, but it wasn't long before Prompto realized exactly why Aranea had said it like she did.

While they made camp—only until after midnight, and no fire, Aranea had said; no beacon to let the villagers know where they were—Prompto heard the sound of chanting shouts coming from the road nearby. He'd crept along, hiding behind a tree and taking a glance at the road, to see a whole freaking _parade_ of villagers making their way down the road. It looked like a combination between a parade and a mob. Lines of people marching together, in the direction that Aranea had told Prompto that the slaughterhouse was. It was definitely worrying. If Noctis was in that slaughterhouse, and people were walking down the street chanting things that sounded like they belonged in some creepy cult movie... what were they planning to do?

It took everything he had—plus a little bit of persuasion for Aranea, by way of a hand on his arm and a tug back into the shadows—to keep him from running out into the group.

"You don't wanna do that, Skinny," Aranea insisted, pulling him rather roughly, all the way back to the camp they'd made and shoving him so that he was sitting on a stump. "You probably think you do, but if you take off now, you'll only make it all the harder for you to get to your Prince."

Prompto grunted, sitting down as comfortably as the stump would allow, and looked up at her. "The hell's with these people?" he asked. "They look like some sort of creepy murder cult or something."

Aranea huffed a humorless laugh and nodded her head. "Pretty much," she answered. "They're brainwashed by a virus. Don't know too much about it, but the parasite pretty much takes over their brains and turns them into like... worker bees for the leaders of the village. It's real horror movie bullshit, except it's real." She took her assault rifle from her back and took a few seconds to clean it out.

"Why aren't we going after them, then?" Prompto asked, exasperated, as he looked in the direction that the group had disappeared in. "If they're heading for the slaughterhouse, and Noct might be there, then-"

Before he could make another sound, Aranea completely stopped moving, shushed him, and pointed out toward the road again. A second parade mob chanted their way down the road, and Prompto's eyebrows furrowed as he watched them and listened to the eerie, creepy chants. "Live to serve," and "only he matters," were the only ones he could really pick out in the throngs, though he was pretty sure that there were more than just those two things. He darted his head back to look at Aranea as the chants faded into the distance, confusion plain as the nose on his face.

Aranea shrugged her head to the side. "Don't know much about it," she admitted. "But I know that it's because of that damn parasite. Like I said."

A brainwashed cult turned into servants thanks to a parasite. Yeah, it really sounded like something out of a horror movie. Prompto looked in the direction that they'd disappeared into, watching as a few torches disappeared behind them. "That why we're hiding out here?" he asked. It was a stupid question. Of course that was why they were hiding. But, at the same time, if they were all heading to a place that Noct _might_ have been, Prompto _really_ didn't want to hide out and wait for what might possibly happen. He wanted to leave. Wanted to chase them. Wanted to _stop_ them from possibly getting to Noct.

"Yeah," Aranea answered. "Though I don't wanna stay here much longer than we have to, 'cause there's a shit ton of infected animals out here, too. We don't wanna run into an infected sawtooth."

Prompto blinked. The dog back in the village, had he been infected? Was it a dog, or was it a sawtooth? Glancing down at his arm, at the place where the dog bite _should_ have been, he flicked his eyes back up to Aranea. "Infected sawtooth, huh?" he asked.

Aranea had an eyebrow arched as she looked at Prompto, watching the way he looked at his arm. "Yeah. Most of the animals around here have the virus in some way," she explained. "I think it's their way of trying to spread it around. Which is really fucking scary, given how close Ulwaat is to Accordo, and given how easy it would be for Accordo to spread it into Altissia and then across to Lucis... the situation could turn global before we even realize what's happening."

"Except you already realized," Prompto pointed out. "But, uh... I was asking because I got bitten by a sawtooth earlier. Or at least a dog that looked like it was-"

With a shake of her head, Aranea waved his concern off. "It's not like some zombie virus, kid. You don't get it through a bite, or hell, I'd be infected right now," she pointed out with a bitter half-laugh. "They have to inject you. Or you have to drink the water here. And you're, uh..." She paused, trailing off, and then shook her head. "You don't have anything to worry about."

There was a weird tone in her voice that made Prompto wonder if she'd somehow managed to find out about his special circumstance. He guessed it made sense. If someone sent her, if someone told her to come and help them out, like King Regis or maybe Cor or someone, they'd probably have had to tell her about his situation, or else she'd think that there was something wrong with him. It had him tilting his head in curiosity as he raked his teeth over his lip. A slight bit of nervousness held him back from asking her the question outright. Prompto may not have been weak, but Aranea was a whole new level of badass that he'd never seen before, so she was intimidating on her own.

Still, it didn't seem like she was giving him the option to back out. "You're looking at me like I've got three heads. Something wrong?"

Prompto laughed a soft and humorless note. "I'm just wondering," he murmured. "Who sent you here? Is that something you're allowed to tell me?"

She shook her head no. "I mean, I'm probably allowed, but I don't talk about my clients. I'm on your side, though. If you're wondering that," she stated simply, as she put her gun back together after she finished cleaning it.

"That's not what I'm worried about," he admitted. "I'm just wondering, you know, if whoever hired you told you anything about me?" Being upfront probably would have been the smartest thing. Better to tell her outright than have her find out later and think he was some kind of freak. He couldn't bring himself to do it, though.

It ended up not mattering, though. "Yeah," she explained. "My client told me about you. Your healing thing. If that's what you meant." It sounded like she was trying to play it cool, but she had more than a little bit of curiosity in her expression as she looked him over. "They told me that you're pretty damn close to indestructible, so I don't have to worry about watching your back as much as watching my own. But they also told me that you're kinda green about shit like this, so you'd probably need someone a little more experienced watching your back."

Honestly, that sounded almost like Gladio had hired her, but how could _that_ be possible? Gladio hadn't known that they'd be separated, so... who could have possibly done it? It didn't matter, he guessed. She was there and she was helping him, so he'd have to be pretty dumb to look that gift horse in the mouth. "I guess," he chuckled softly, slightly embarrassed.

"No need to be bashful about it, kid," she told him. "We were all rookies once. It's a pretty shitty first mission, too. Sent out into the ass end of nowhere to fight off a cult of weirdos. Look at the bright side." She stood up and brushed some dirt from her pants. "After this, you'll be damn well prepared for anything." She smirked.

Prompto took that as a cue to stand, too. Were they leaving? "Probably," he chuckled softly. "Let's just hope it won't get any weirder."

Aranea laughed, too, bringing her hand up to her choker and fiddling with it nervously. "Intel tells me it probably will," she explained. "So you might wanna brace yourself." She gestured over her shoulder toward the slaughterhouse. "You ready to go look for your boy?" she asked him.

"I was ready before we even stopped," he answered.

With a gentle chuckle, Aranea beckoned for him to follow her. "We're gonna stay in the woods, but you gotta watch out for animals. Some of 'em are infected, and while they can't really hurt you lastingly? That doesn't mean that _I_ wanna get bit." She raised her chin and chuckled a humorless note.

Prompto nodded his head. "I'll keep an eye out. How far are we from the slaughterhouse?"

"Not far," she answered. "You'll start seeing the lights once we get up and over the top of the hill. We're gonna go through the fire escape, though, because trust me. They may be doing some weird cultish shit in there, but that doesn't mean that they won't notice if we just burst in through the front door." She hummed a gentle laugh, and started toward the slaughterhouse.

As he followed behind, he did his best to watch out for animals, but it was tough when he couldn't really see much. It was dark, and the woods obscured most of the light that the moon would have cast down over them, but he still watched, following behind Aranea. His attention was drawn immediately, though, by the lights in the slaughterhouse. It was lit up like Christmastime, and Prompto was pretty sure that there was a candle in each of the windows. If Noctis was there, and they were planning some kind of cultish whatever, Prompto really didn't want to know what part they planned for Noctis to play.

"Are we gonna get him before their cult crap is finished?" Prompto whispered.

Aranea nodded. "Road's clear. We can use that instead. Just, y'know. If you see anyone, take to the shadows." She stepped out onto the road and beckoned for Prompto to follow.

They made it all of two steps before trouble showed up. The sound came on quickly. It started as a low and rumbling growl in the distance, followed by a familiar howl. Just like the dog in the village. Prompto didn't need to be told that it was trouble. Aranea stopped in her tracks and looked out around them, motioning for Prompto to do the same. He didn't see anything at first.

It wasn't long before he did, though. The moon reflected from the sawtooth's eyes and they glowed against the darkness of the forest. "Aranea," he whispered.

"Shit. Don't fire on it. You don't wanna draw the cultists' attention. Run. Just... fucking run," she commanded, beckoning for Prompto to follow behind her as she took off in a sprint toward the slaughterhouse.

Prompto followed her, matching her stride easily. As they ran, though, the situation went from a sort of small problem, to a medium problem, to a _huge_ problem, when the number of sawteeth multiplied from one, to three, to five. A pack of sawteeth, even when they _weren't_ infected with some kind of virus, were bad news. The virus, though, made it seem effortless for them to keep pace with Prompto and Aranea. Aranea reached the fire escape first, and Prompto couldn't help but notice that it looked old, rickety and broken. Like it wouldn't be able to hold both of their weight.

"Go!" Prompto commanded. "Wait for me on the roof. I'm gonna lead 'em around the building and then meet you back here. The escape won't hold both of us."

Aranea hissed a seething note as she stood one level up on the fire escape. "What the hell? Why?!" she grunted as she pulled her assault rifle from her shoulder.

He didn't take the time to answer the question. Instead, he whisper-shouted for her to "go!" while he started leading the pack of sawtooth around the slaughterhouse. He took the chance to get a quick look at the area as he ran past it. Just as much of a look as he could get while still running as fast as he could from the five sawteeth that chased him. It wasn't much, but it was enough to tell Prompto that the slaughterhouse was a huge building. At least six floors of candlelit windows, except for one or two that were completely dark. A part of Prompto wondered if maybe one of those rooms was where they were keeping Noctis.

Now wasn't the time, though. He ran, unleashing every single bit of the speed that his particular set of skills allowed him to. The sawteeth were just as quick, though, and when Prompto got to a speed that normally would have been more than enough to leave absolutely anyone in the dust, the sawteeth kept up. They didn't catch him, but they stayed the same distance behind him. How? How was that possible? Did the sawtooth have the same abilities that he did?

It didn't matter. _This isn't the time to think of that,_ he reminded himself as he rounded the corner to the front of the slaughterhouse. That was when he realized the potentially huge mistake he'd made. Through the doors, he could hear the chanting echoing from the inside of the building; a chorus of the same chant that the villagers had been muttering as they walked down the street. "Only he matters," followed shortly by "live to serve." This time, there was a little bit of extra thrown in. "Spill the royal blood."

Prompto tripped over his feet and almost fell to the ground when he heard that. Spill the royal blood. Noctis. It took every single bit of willpower that he had not to burst through the door and open fire. The number of voices in there told him how bad of an idea that was, though. No, he wasn't easy to kill. There was no guarantee, though, that if he did that, they wouldn't just go to wherever Noctis was and 'spill his blood,' or whatever. Or even inject him with whatever this virus was.

He ran as quickly as he could, and almost tripped again when he felt the rush of air that accompanied one of the sawteeth nipping at his heels. The trip had closed the gap that had formed between Prompto and the sawtooth, and now, one more screw up would have him actually needing to fight them off. As he rounded the corner, he caught sight of the ladder, and jumped for it. It rattled with the impact he made, and while he waited for it to correct himself, one of the sawteeth managed to sink its teeth into his calf. It took every ounce of willpower that Prompto had inside of him not to scream out into the night, but he managed to hold back, and to slowly ascend the ladder to put himself out of the sawtooth' reach.

Aranea was cussing him out in whisper-shouts from the roof, calling him a stupid idiot and telling him that he didn't have to be a kamikaze or something like that, and while Prompto did hear every word, he sort of tuned it out. Panic combined with the pain of healing to slow his ascent up the ladders and staircases that composed the fire escape. It was only when he got to the top that he stopped, and even then, it was only because Aranea grabbed his shoulder and shook it.

"What in the _hell_ were you trying to accomplish?" she berated him. "You get yourself killed, we're not gonna be able to save your damn prince."

Prompto breathed huffing breaths as he looked at her. "He's there," he told her. "They're chanting about spilling his blood, Aranea. We have to-"

She growled an annoyed note. "I hear it, kid. But you gotta stop trying to be Superman or whatever, 'cause even _you_ don't know if you can be killed. You may be hard to kill, but you don't know if it's impossible, and if you find out it's not? Who the fuck's gonna save your prince then?"

It didn't matter. Prompto shook her hand off and hobbled with the last of the healing as it worked its way through his leg. If he didn't save Noctis, Gladio was still too far away. So they'd spill his blood. And who knew how much blood they planned to spill? Prompto breathed a heavy breath and turned to look at Aranea, completely ignoring her warning.

"I think he's on the fifth or sixth floor. How do we get in?" he asked instead.

She shook her head no and grabbed his shoulder again. "I need you to think straight here, kid. I know you want to rush in there, but this is gonna require finesse and careful planning. No running gung-ho. No suicide missions. Or, I guess not necessarily suicide missions for you, but suicide missions for a _normal_ person. You're gonna have to follow my lead. Okay?"

Prompto didn't answer at first.

" _Okay_?" Aranea continued, eyes narrowed and baring down on Prompto in half-threat. "We'll get him out. I promise."

With a resigned sigh, Prompto nodded his head. "Okay," he murmured dismally. "How?"

She puffed a relieved sigh out through pursed lips and took a pair of goggles from her pack. "Heat goggles. While you were down there playing tag with the dogs, I got a read on where they're keeping him. His heat signature's a little cooler than the villagers, a little warmer than a normal person's." She motioned to her eyes, commanding Prompto to put the goggles on his face without speaking.

To say that Prompto was surprised was an understatement, but he did as she told him, putting the goggles on his face and watching as she stepped forward, flicking a couple of switches. Everything switched to infrared then. Aranea's signature was a light orange, with yellow around the outside. Prompto's own signature was more of a deep red; bright and burning like a blood moon, with a shade of orange like the inside of Aranea's lining the outside of his hand as he looked. Through the floor, though, he saw a sea of red, all slight tweaks away from being the same shade as his own. Off to the side, and closer to where Aranea and Prompto stood on the roof, was a lone signature, sitting huddled. It looked like maybe they were hugging their knees. Noctis?

If it was, Prompto was a little bit surprised. His heat signature was somewhere between Aranea's and Prompto's own. The outside of his flesh was tinged a medium orange, and the inside was about ten shades from Prompto's own.

At the moment, the implications of Prompto's own color matching the villagers' didn't occur to him. All he was worried about was getting in there and finding Noctis. Rescuing Noctis. So, he glanced back up at the orange and yellow signature that was Aranea, and raised the goggles from his head. "Why's his signature so orange?" he asked, not really even worried about his own. It probably had something to do with his healing, he assumed.

"Pretty sure they infected him, kid."

Prompto's heart sank from his chest, dropped to his stomach, and it had all he could do not to physically stagger. "Wait, so... so he's-"

She shook her head. "Not yet. We gotta save his ass and then meet with your buddies. And then we can slow the parasite's growth and bring him somewhere to save him. So, are you ready to listen to me, or are you gonna run off and be an idiot again?" she asked him.

Scowling a determined scowl, Prompto nodded his head. There was no guarantee, really, that he'd be able to stow his need to protect Noctis. He was supposed to protect Noctis above all else, but once again, he realized that it went beyond duty. It was his own wish to make sure that Noctis was okay. Was cured, apparently. "Where do we go?" he asked her.

The answer to that question was, apparently back down to the fire escape. The sawtooth still swarmed the thing, barking and snarling at the base of the ladder. Prompto wasn't sure what Aranea was doing, but he followed her all the same, climbing down one floor to the sixth. He'd only gotten a brief look at the building through the goggles, but it had seemed like Noctis was a little further down. Still, he'd told her that he wasn't going to complain, wasn't going to be complicated. She stepped up to the window, taking a detailed look at it, before sliding a small metal bar underneath where it closed and prying it open. Before she pushed it up completely, she turned over her shoulder and glanced at Prompto, shushing him gently.

He nodded, and followed her into the building.

Aside from the candles in the windows, there was absolutely nothing on this floor. It was _eerily_ empty, almost. The cultists' chanting was even louder from here, and Prompto couldn't help but stare over the railing and down into the slaughterhouse. At first, he wondered what kind of cult held a ceremony like this in a slaughterhouse, but when he looked over, down at the massive throng of villagers, he had his answer.

Immediately, he realized that it was less slaughterhouse and more torture chamber. Some of the standard slaughterhouse tools were set up almost like they were planning to use them. On either side of a small stage, two male villagers sat blindfolded and tied to a rack. A rack wasn't a normal slaughterhouse tool. A few meters away stood a man who looked instantly familiar to Prompto. Large and hulking, he looked exactly like the man he'd encountered in the underground tunnel. He even had a matching axe, which he was sharpening on a stone. Perhaps more astounding was the fact that neither of the bound men struggled. They simply chanted along with the rest of the crowd, almost like they were willingly throwing their lives away for the sake of who or whatever this cult worshiped.

It was almost impossible for Prompto to fight with the instinct that told him to rush to where Noctis was, and the only thing that really kept him in place was the fact that he still didn't really know exactly where that _was_. Instead, he tore his eyes from the horrifying scene on the ground floor of the slaughterhouse and stepped back into the shadows with Aranea, who was putting the goggles back into her pocket.

She looked at Prompto, pointing down. Her mouth formed the words, "down a floor," quietly, and then she beckoned for Prompto to follow her lead.

He did as he was told, following her to a staircase that led from the empty sixth floor and down to the fifth. Even from where Prompto was standing, he could see that there was more happening on the next floor down. Some of the chants were coming from there, and he blinked twice when Aranea pressed the hilt of a small blade into his hand.

They were going to have to kill some of the villagers, was what he took that to mean. Prompto's heart was in his throat, but he knew that he'd eventually have to dirty his hands. He'd just hoped that it wouldn't come so soon. Breathing in a quiet breath, he nodded and followed Aranea down the stairs. The steps were slow, creeping, and deliberate, and as soon as they rounded the corner, the pair of them hid in the complete darkness beneath the staircase.

Aranea left the safety of darkness first, creeping up behind the first of the cultists and placing a hand over his mouth, before sliding her blade straight into the woman's throat and dragging her back into the shadows. No one noticed her at all, and Prompto could only blink when she returned to his side with the woman's body.

Glancing out at the rest of the villagers that lined the corridor, Prompto was surprised to see that not a single one of them had taken notice of the fact that Aranea was apparently a _ninja_ or something. None of the people on the other side noticed, either. They simply stared down at the ground floor, at the three people on the stage. Prompto peered out, and then looked back at Aranea, who motioned for him to leave cover and head toward the next of the villagers. There were two, standing side by side this time, and Aranea would definitely need him to take one. They were standing close enough together that they'd definitely notice.

His first real kill. _You can do it. You can do it,_ he told himself as he followed behind Aranea. It was for Noctis. He could _definitely_ do it for Noctis.

As he followed behind Aranea, he followed her lead exactly. He placed a hand over the man's mouth, holding tightly, and then plunged the small knife into his throat. He sputtered a little bit more than Prompto expected, and it made Prompto feel like his heart was about to leap out through his throat, but he kept it together. Prompto pulled the quickly-dying man away from the railing, following Aranea's lead and hiding the pair of them in an old, storage bin together.

Prompto's hands trembled a little bit when he caught sight of the thick, dark crimson blood that the man had left behind. It was dripping down his palm and onto his wrist, and he had to blink hard and look away from it. In the back of his mind was a niggling voice, screaming at him for taking out his first kill, but he fought it off. Later. He would deal with it later, when he had Noctis back, and had cured Noctis of whatever they'd done to him.

For now, he followed behind Aranea, ignoring the panic in the back corner of his mind. She led him to where the corridor split off into a smaller hallway, and Prompto couldn't help but let out a silent gasp at what he saw. The rooms looked more like weird, old-fashioned prison cells than anything Prompto had ever seen in a slaughterhouse. It had him wondering if the slaughterhouse was a cover, or a code name, or something like that. There was definitely going to be slaughter happening. Those two guys tied in that rack were going to be killed, weren't they? And Noctis... they talked about spilling his blood, which meant that they were at least planning to hurt him.

He shook his head hard, forcing that thought away as he followed Aranea into the small hallway. It was empty, aside from the pair of them.

She stopped in front of a door and turned to him. "Gonna need you to keep lookout," she whispered.

Was this the room? Was this where they were keeping Noctis? Prompto looked at the small barred window at the top of the door, but it was too dusty, and the room on the other side was too dark for him to be able to see anything. Instead, he turned to Aranea and nodded, before turning so that his back was facing the window at the other end of the hallway, to keep watch. What did he do if anyone _did_ come, though? Prompto could fight with a knife. It was part of his training. This knife was small, though. Like, really small. Smaller than any knife he'd ever had to fight with before.

He'd make do. Breathing an attempt at a steadying breath, he watched the hallway but peered over his shoulder for a second to see that Aranea was on her knees with a lockpick in her hands, picking the door open. It looked like the lockpick had the Caelum family crest engraved in it, and Prompto found himself, for a split second, wondering exactly who Aranea was.

Turning his head to look back down the hallway, he caught sight of a villager dressed in black robes, making his way down the hallway with a pair of handcuffs and a small burlap sack in his hand. He chanted, though his chant was only about spilling the royal blood, and he _still_ didn't even seem to notice Prompto and Aranea at all.

Prompto had his knife at the ready, ready to take the guy out—or give him a fight, at the very least—but before he even got the chance, Aranea grabbed him by the arm and pulled him alongside her, into the room she'd been trying to unlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompto is a little reckless when Noctis is concerned, okay?


	10. Reunite

As many times as Noctis' dad had warned him that things may have gone wrong during the treaty signing, Noctis never would have expected that they'd have gone like this. Now, he didn't even know where he was, beyond the assumption that he was somewhere in Niflheim. The whole trip here, he'd been blindfolded, gagged, and his hands were tied behind his back. Every time he'd struggled, every time he'd strained against his bonds, he'd been slapped or punched or threatened. Wordlessly threatened, because none of his captors would even talk to him.

Okay, that wasn't exactly true. They _did_ talk to him. The words were always the same, though. Something about spilling royal blood and how he'd be 'one of them' soon. Everything else was just grunts and gestures and being shoved around like he was some kind of criminal or something. Noctis knew that some places weren't exactly friendly, and that Niflheim was one of those places, but he'd never thought that it was anything like this.

It made him wonder why his dad even wanted to sign a peace treaty to begin with, _and_ it made him wonder what the status of the peace treaty was now that all of this had happened.

Since he'd gotten to wherever he was, Noctis hadn't really seen the outside of this small room. It was cold, made of stone and metal, and it looked like some kind of weird medieval torture chamber. There were torture devices all over the walls. Things he'd seen in books and video games a million times, but never really thought that he'd see in real life. Iron maidens, stretching racks... each of them was covered in ages-old dried blood, and Noctis wondered—not that he wasn't _grateful_ , of course—why they hadn't tried to use any of them on him. As it stood, what they had done wasn't exactly a cake walk.

Every time he tried to talk to one of them, they'd hit him. He had a split lip, a bruise on one of his eyes, and he was pretty sure that one of the guys—the one in the robe that always brought him the gross, stale bread and water that they'd tried to make him eat for every single meal, no matter how many times he refused it—had almost choked him when he asked what they wanted with him.

Fear wasn't exactly an unfamiliar feeling to Noctis. He'd been scared dozens of hundreds of times in his life. When his mom died and he'd almost died too, he'd been scared out of his mind. When he'd first learned that Prompto was hurting himself, he'd been scared. Every time his dad left on one of those weird political meetings, he was always afraid that he'd never come back. This type of fear was new. What did they mean when they told him that he'd be one of them? Were they planning to brainwash him somehow? Or were they planning on threatening him into service?

Noctis knew that Niflheim was up to some shady stuff. He'd only ever really heard his dad talking about it in passing. They did experiments on people, things that Noctis couldn't even really imagine. Whether that was true or not, the people here were definitely up to some really weird stuff.

Like the chanting. It had just started out of nowhere, a couple of hours ago. At first, it had been nothing but a mumbling whisper coming from the ground floor. A few voices. As time ticked by, though, more voices joined the first couple. Then more and more until the sounds of the voices echoed and rumbled the walls of the torture room. As the sound got louder and louder, Noctis shrank back further and further, until he was leaning back in the corner of the room, the torture rack between him and the door. It wasn't really a hiding place, but he wasn't in immediate view. It was better than nothing. He covered his ears, desperately trying to drown some of it out.

Was this how they were planning to brainwash him?

If it was, they were going to have to try harder than that. This chanting was creepy, but all it was doing was making him want to find _some_ way to fend off the next guy who came into the room. It wasn't like there weren't any. Actually, back there, there were even more. Just in his periphery, Noctis saw a pair of large rocks, a broken piece of metal, and a piece of wood that had splintered off from the rack. Noctis blinked. Okay. Why hadn't he thought of it before? He uncovered his ears and ignored the chanting as best he could. Not an easy task, since it was so loud that it almost seemed to rattle the door on its hinges. Shaking that off, Noctis reached down for the piece of metal and picked it up.

It was heavy, kind of unwieldy, but Gladio had trained him to fight with a broadsword. Broadswords were bigger than this. He just wasn't expecting the weight, and he was a little bit weak from the lack of nutrition that came along with his refusal to touch the food or water they'd given him.

Giving it one, then two practice swings, he decided that it was better than nothing. It was a way to fight back against the next guy who came for him. Was it smart? Probably not. He was getting desperate, though. As sure as he was that Gladio and Prompto were coming for him, he wanted to get the hell out of here and find a way to get into contact with them on his own. Bravery. _Stand up against what scares you,_ he told himself. His dad hadn't raised him to roll over in the face of danger.

Which was all well and good, but when the door started rattling on its hinges again, it was hard not to freak out just a little. The chanting was loud, but not loud enough to drown out the scraping click of something being inserted into the lock. It wasn't unusual. Every time one of the guys came into the room, they always had to unlock the door. As dumb as they were, they weren't dumb enough to leave Noctis in an unlocked room. If wishing made it so, though.

An unfamiliar voice filled the room, though, as it creaked open. "I know. They're right behind us. Get in here, quick."

The second person, whoever they were talking to, either didn't respond or didn't respond with words. He heard four hurried footsteps as they echoed their way into the room, though, and hurried over to stand behind where the door would hit the wall. It was huge and metal, but as long as they didn't slam it open, he wouldn't get hurt.

As it turned out, though, they did. It wasn't a _hard_ slam, but it came at him a lot faster than he'd been expecting it to. The door flew at him, and he had to hold his hands out to catch it before it smacked into his face and broke his nose or something. The only problem with that was the fact that the metal door made contact with the metal bar that Noctis still held in his hand, sending a loud _CLANG_ echoing out through the room and into the hallway. He tensed. He knew that there was more than one person out there, sure, but so far, he'd only ever been face to face with one of them at a time. He didn't know if he could deal with more than one.

"The hell was that?" a woman asked.

That was when he noticed, though, that her words weren't any of the weird chants that he'd heard. It wasn't someone telling him that he'd be one of them. It wasn't a grunt or an angry shout. That didn't even really last too long in Noctis' mind at the moment, though. He threw the door away from him and rushed at the first person that appeared in his vision. No words, just a frustrated grunt as he raised the metal bar up and over his head, swinging with all of his strength at whoever in the hell was in front of him.

"Whoa, hang on! Wait a- OOF!"

 _That_ voice, Noctis recognized immediately. It didn't hit his ears in time for him to stop, though, and the metal bar made a harsh thud against the carrier's shoulder, knocking them back a couple of stumbling steps and making them crash into the rack. Slowly, they pulled themselves back into a standing position and that was when Noctis finally got a look at them. To say that the sight made his knees weak was _definitely_ not an understatement. It wasn't like the romantic weakness in the knees—although in any other situation it probably would have been—but more like just a washing wave of relief that crashed into him and took all the strength he had left with it.

Prompto. By the Six, it was Prompto. Without regard for the fact that he'd just smacked his best friend with a metal bar, he jumped forward, throwing his arms around Prompto and burying his face in his shoulder. "P-Prompto, you-"

"Later!" a second voice hit his ears; a woman this time. "Do this later, okay? That guy with the black robe is coming down the hall and we're gonna have to do something about it."

The next thing Noctis felt was the familiar warmth of Prompto's hands hitting his shoulders and pushing him back just slightly. Prompto met his eyes and tried to smile, though the concern lining his eyes was pretty obvious. "Noct. I'm gonna need you to trust me, alright?" The request was simple enough on its own, but the look on Prompto's face told Noctis that he wasn't going to like whatever Prompto was going to ask.

Still, Noctis nodded. As much of a war against instinct as it was—as much as he wanted to wrap his arms around Prompto's neck and not let go for anything—with one of the cultists coming down the hall, this was not the best time to do that. Later. Just like the woman had said.

"Aranea. While I take that guard, you and Noct go for the window and down the fire escape. Maybe it'll hold both of you, but not all three of us, so I'll take care of the guy with the black robe and then follow behind you. Okay?"

Noctis blinked. "Wait, what?" he asked, shaking his head in disapproval. "No. No way you-"

The woman grabbed his arm, though, and pulled him back behind the door with her. "Not now, Prince Charmless. He's right. It won't hold all three of us, and right now, what's most important is getting your royal ass out of here!" she snapped. Before Noctis could protest, she covered his mouth with one hand and shushed him with the other.

A few seconds later, Noctis heard the sounds of combat—Prompto wasn't shooting, but Noctis knew that he wasn't a slouch in a fist fight, either—and then seconds later, the woman grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out from behind the door. He caught a brief glimpse of Prompto as he delivered a sharp roundhouse kick to the robed man's face, and the last thing he saw before the room faded from sight was the robed man getting back up. Of course, Noctis knew that Prompto wasn't even the slightest bit helpless. Between his regeneration and the fact that he'd been trained by Gladio and Noctis' Uncle Cor, Noctis _knew_ that he could fight. That didn't change the fact that he wanted to be there to help; not to be the helpless prince, being dragged away from danger again.

Now, instead, he was following a woman he didn't know down a corridor of rooms that looked more like prison cells. She stopped at the end of the hall, and as she pulled the window open, Noctis turned to look back down the hallway at the open door to the room they'd just taken him from. Prompto hadn't left the room yet. Just because he could regenerate didn't mean that he was immune from being knocked unconscious. What if the guy in the robes had managed to knock him out somehow?

Before he could make a move to rush back and check, the woman grabbed his arm and urged him out of the window. "He'll be fine! Come on!" she whispered sharply.

Noctis' brows knit together, and he narrowed his eyes at her. It took a second urging tug on his arm, and a gentle shove to his shoulder, to finally get him to obey. "Alright! Alright, I'm going!" he replied, his voice taking the same sharp whispering tone that hers had taken. Before he listened, though, he allowed himself one more glance down the hall. When Prompto still didn't appear, Noctis really started to worry. He knew the woman wouldn't let him get away with going back, though. Especially since she was standing between Noctis and the door now. So, he climbed out the window. The chants of the people inside the building meshed with the howling of saberteeth from not too far away, and Noctis waited for the woman to follow him out the window, before starting down the fire escape.

"We need to be quiet," she told him. "We'll hide out nearby and wait for Prompto."

To that, Noctis nodded eagerly. That was good, because if she thought that he was leaving the area _without_ Prompto, she was sorely mistaken. The fire escape quaked with every step that each of them took, and Noctis was pretty sure that it was going to fall apart at any second, but he hurried down it all the same, and then followed her lead to a nearby storage shed at the tree line. It was small, but not too small. Big enough to easily fit the two of them and with enough space for Prompto when he got out, and the window in the door was small enough for Noctis to look out from, but not enough for anyone to look in through. He had a perfect view of the building, and if he tilted his head just slightly, he could see all the way up to the floor they'd come down from.

Except, the woman's voice disrupted his watch when she called from where she sat on an old rickety lawnmower.

"So, how long ago did they infect you? D'you know?" she asked him plainly.

Noctis just blinked twice when he turned to look at her. "Wait, what?" Infected? What did that mean?

The woman stared at him for a couple of seconds, her eyes wide open and her mouth a thin line. "Wait. You didn't know?"

Obviously not. Noctis shook his head and looked at her. "Infected. What the hell do you mean infected?" he asked her.

She sighed. "Didn't think they'd be subtle about it. But yeah. They infected you with something, kid. We don't get you help, in about a week, you'll be just like them. So, as soon as Prompto gets out here? We got people waiting to meet up with us. One of 'em's got pills that'll suppress the thing they injected you with, and he's gonna take us to where we can get rid of it completely. So, yeah. Infected. But you're gonna be alright." She spoke pretty plainly, but there was nothing plain at all about what she was saying.

Honestly, it just made Noctis' head spin a little bit. What the hell did she mean infected? And with what? He was about to ask, but before he got the chance, a loud, ground-shaking crash came from just outside the shed. He turned to look, and he felt Aranea's swift movement to get to the window behind him. The pair of them looked out at the building, and Noctis could only blink in horror at what he saw. The fire escape had completely collapsed into a heap of ugly rubble onto the ground, and dust puffed up in a massive cloud from the wreckage.

Panic set in right after that realization came, and Noctis wasn't sure what was worse, if Prompto had _made_ it to the fire escape, or if he hadn't. If he had, then he was in that mass of metal rubble and wreckage on the ground. If he hadn't, then he was still inside the building with all of those weird cultists. Not appealing either way. Noctis watched in horror, and he didn't bother to stop himself—nor did Aranea bother to stop him—from reaching down for the doorknob and pulling the creaky old door open. It crashed open and into the wall, but Noctis didn't care. As he hurried toward the rubble, he watched as Prompto slowly pulled himself out from the metal mess, and groaned.

"P-Prompto?" Noctis whispered in horror. "Are you okay?"

Prompto nodded, but even as he did, he turned his eyes down to his calf, where a large gash had torn his flesh and his pants. Noctis knelt down to help him up, but before he even had a chance to move at all, he heard the front door of the building burst open and an echoing chorale of villager voices traveling through the area. The situation had just gone from bad to worse.

It was obvious that Prompto was fazed, though he was trying not to be. He pulled himself up into a seated position, then took Noctis' hand and allowed Noctis to pull him to his feet. "We've gotta get out of here. To somewhere safe, where we can call Gladio and find out where he is."

Gladio was here, too. Noctis wasn't sure why he was so surprised. It was literally his job to come to Noctis' aid in situations like this, just like it was Prompto's. When Noctis had only seen Prompto, but not Gladio, though, he wasn't sure exactly what he'd thought. Maybe that something bad had happened to Gladio, or maybe that he'd been forced to stay home because of how dangerous the situation was. He wished that was the case, just as much as he wished that _Prompto_ had been forced to stay home, too. But it wasn't. They were both here and in the middle of whatever craziness was going on here, and it was all because of Noctis.

Before he could let his mind swirl any further down that dark tunnel, Aranea spoke up and yanked him out of it. "We're gonna have to cut through the woods. I know a place, and it's somewhere that we can get Prince Charmless here a gun and maybe a vest, too." She reached her hand down and put Prompto's other arm around her shoulders.

Prompto shook it off, though. "Don't need it," he told her. "I'll be fine. Leg's already starting to heal."

Except, Noctis knew how painful a process Prompto's healing could be. There wasn't really time to argue, though, because the voices were getting closer. The three of them took off into the woods, with Prompto hobbling just slightly and picking up the rear. He moved a little bit slowly, but still kept pace, and it wasn't long before he'd picked up even more speed and passed by both of them. Noctis was behind, now. Not for long, though, because Prompto intentionally slowed down to watch from the back.

Noctis could think of only two things as they ran. The first was the fact that Aranea had told him that he was infected with something. The second was how _incredibly_ grateful he was to be the hell out of that small, cold, room. Except, being in a dark woods wasn't any better. Especially not with the sound of saberteeth howling in the distance. He didn't know where they were, but he knew that he could hear them clearly.

They kept running until their run slowed to a jog, and then kept jogging until that slowed into a walk. After that, they just walked in silence, through thick woods filled with all of the sounds that woods usually carried. Animals and rustling trees... and in the distance, Noctis was pretty sure that he could still hear the chanting, though it sounded more like a low hum than any kind of chanting. It was still creepy as hell, but at the very least it was far enough away that it didn't shake him to his very core. Admittedly, now that he had some distance between himself and that building, Noctis could feel the exhaustion building.

He hadn't slept at all the night prior, and he hadn't eaten anything since before the treaty signing, either. The bread and water that they'd tried to make him eat didn't look appealing. The water smelled like sewer water and the bread was dry and moldy in places, and it made him wonder if they were trying to poison him or something. Now, though, it was catching up to him. His stomach rumbled and his head hurt, and he felt like he could pass out, pretty much at the drop of the hat. His body felt a little warmer than normal, too. It brought his mind back to what Aranea had said. Infected. They'd infected him with something. He turned to look at Prompto, who was looking back at him with concern lining his eyes.

"Noct? You don't look so good," he murmured in a gentle tone, his voice as caring and comforting as it ever was. "Hang on, Aranea, can we stop for a sec? The cultists sound like they're pretty far away."

The woman nodded. "Yeah, I'll keep watch. Just don't take too long, alright? We don't know _how_ far they are from here," she told Prompto, before turning to look at Noctis with worry in _her_ expression, too.

When Prompto turned his attention back to Noctis, he put a hand on his arm. "You've got a black eye. And a bloody lip, too. What did they do to you?" he asked, before reaching over his shoulder and into his pack. Except, just as quickly as he'd started talking, he stopped, frowned, and looked back up at Noct. "I... Noct, I've gotta tell you something."

Noctis shrugged. "If it's that I'm infected with something, she already told me," he said, pointing to the woman. To Aranea. "I don't know what it is, but it explains why I feel like there are little bugs crawling around under my skin, I guess." He was trying to be calm about it, because along with telling him that he _was_ infected with something, she'd also told him that they were going to find someone who could help him, and that someone was with Gladio.

"We're gonna cure you. It's... it's okay," Prompto told him, though he didn't sound as convincing as he probably wanted to.

With a nod, and a slow and steadying breath, Noctis looked up to meet Prompto's eye. "Thanks, by the way. Both of you, sure," he said, turning his eyes to look at the woman, who was leaning against a tree a few feet away and diligently watching the area around them. "But you. For coming for me. I didn't think that you wouldn't or anything, I just..."

Prompto reached out, grabbing his arm and pulling him in for a tight hug. "You were scared. Pretty much everything about this place is scary as hell," he muttered as he released Noctis from the hug and met his eyes again.

Huffing a halfhearted laugh, Noctis nodded again. "Didn't help that I couldn't get answers from them, either. They kept like, smacking me around every time I asked, and when I did get them to talk, it was only the same weird stuff that they kept chanting back there. How they needed to spill my blood and how I'd be one of them soon. I'm assuming that has to do with what they infected me with," he pointed out, frowning.

When Prompto nodded, Noctis' heart sank a little bit further. "Some brainwashing parasite. I don't know what it's about, but yeah. Aranea said that it's an injection, or something that they put in the water, but it like, starts to control your brain or something." His tone was dismal, sad, as he looked Noctis over.

"Sounds great," Noctis remarked sarcastically. "I've always wondered what it was like to lose complete and total control of my brain."

Prompto looked like he wanted to smile, but at the same time, he absolutely didn't. "We'll take care of it before it comes to that. Right? Aranea told me that there's someone out there ready to cure you, so all we need to do is get to where they are and figure it out from there." He wanted to sound sure, Noctis could tell. He fell just short, though.

Still, he sounded more sure than Noctis felt, so it was a major lift to the spirits. Noctis allowed himself to smile back, and nodded his head. "Right," he answered. 

Finally, Prompto pulled a bottle of water from his pack. Malmalam Spring, and it definitely didn't look as gross as the stuff the people here had been trying to make him drink. He passed it to Noctis, nudging his chin upward in a tick of encouragement. "Drink it. I've got about four more in my pack, and Aranea said that the guy she's taking us to see has food and water for sale, too. Stuff that's not from here," he explained.

"Guess it's a good thing I never drank any of the water they gave me, huh? Who knows how much worse it'd be if I had..." Noctis remarked as he took the water from Prompto's hand. Once he twisted the cap, he allowed another swell of relief to wash over him. It didn't have an odor, either, which was just as much of a relief. "It smelled like the stuff in the sewers back home."

A smirk crossed Prompto's face. "I'd ask how you know what the sewers back home smell like, but our little canal exploration is kinda to blame there, isn't it?" he teased.

That actually managed to bring a smile back to his face. "Still have no idea what made us think that a canal that led straight to the sewer was a good place to play hooky," he muttered, huffing a laugh as he took a slow drink from the water. As much as he wanted to chug the whole thing, Gladio's survival training had taught him that it was a bad idea.

Prompto nodded and chuckled. "Most of our adventures were like that, though. Seemed like a good idea to a couple of bored teenagers, but now we look back and we judge ourselves about ten times harder than your dad and Cor judged us." He shouldered his pack again and reached down for Noctis' hand.

That, Noctis had to admit, comforted him more than the little reminder of all the fun they always had together. Prompto's hand was warm, albeit not as warm as usual because Noctis' own body felt like it was burning up. What was really surprising, though, was that Prompto's hand was still warmer than his own. It still felt nice, though. Relaxing. Like home. He twined their fingers and turned to look at Aranea for a second, then back over to Prompto.

"So, do you know who sent her?" Noctis asked.

Sometimes, it was hard being the prince. The king's son part was probably the hardest; not knowing who he could and couldn't trust. If she'd shown up with Prompto, though, she had to have some level of trustworthiness. As he waited for Prompto's answer, he picked the water bottle back up again and took another slow drink. The water, even though it was most likely lukewarm from being in Prompto's pack, felt really cold, and he could almost feel the chill as it worked its way down his throat and into his stomach.

Prompto shrugged. "No, but she knows Gladio. I heard them talking over the radio. Apparently, they're drinking buddies or something," he chuckled a soft note.

With a return shrug, Noctis nodded. "If the Big Guy trusts her, then she's gotta be okay. Don't think he'd let anyone he didn't trust help. Right?" It wasn't really a question; he knew the answer just as well as he knew that _Prompto_ was trustworthy. Gladio was pretty staunch in making sure that Noctis only hung around with trustworthy people, and in a place like this? That was probably even more important.

Nodding, Prompto tugged loosely on Noctis' arm, pulling him toward where Aranea stood. "Yeah, I think we'll be alright. She knows her way around here pretty well."

"Where even is here?" Noctis asked, laughing a bitter note, in spite of the calmness of the question. As he laughed, though, he felt a slight tickle in the back of his throat. A familiar and uncomfortable tickle, that he only really felt when he had to cough, when he felt sick or something. It was hard not to make a face, but he managed.

If Prompto answered, Noctis didn't hear it. The tickle had morphed into a full-blown itch, and Noctis tried to drown it away with a second drink of water, but it was still there and still strong. Maybe even stronger somehow. As much as Noctis wanted to play it cool, when he opened his mouth to ask Prompto to repeat his answer, all he could do was cough. It was a series of six or seven painful coughs that echoed out through the forest around them. Noctis ripped his hand from Prompto's and brought it up to his mouth by around the fourth one, in an attempt to muffle the sound. When he finally finished coughing, he could hear both Prompto _and_ Aranea worrying over him, but the lightheaded feeling that took over him was too strong.

He glanced down at his hand, at the red spattering of blood on his palm from when he'd covered his mouth, and that was when his vision started to swim. He saw double for three seconds, triple for one, and then he glanced back up at Prompto.

His best friend's face was the last thing he saw before he lost consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DON'T HATE ME PLEASE! ♥


	11. Preparations

When Noctis woke up again, he was inside some sort of building. A house, maybe. At the very least, he was in a bed. There were unfamiliar, itchy blankets pulled up to his shoulders and an unfamiliar pillow under his head. It wasn't the most comfortable place he'd ever slept, but it was definitely a night and day improvement over where he'd been before, so he wasn't going to complain. His head hurt a little bit—a lot, really—and he actually felt like he was starving. Slowly, he powered through the headache to push himself into a seated position, and he was surprised when he felt a gentle and familiar touch on his shoulder.

"Easy, Noct," Prompto called out to him, gently pushing him back down. "You've been out for a little while. Gotta take it easy or else you'll pass back out again."

In a wave, everything that had happened over the past couple of days flew back at Noctis. The treaty signing, the time he spent locked up, Prompto and Aranea showing up to get him out, Prompto falling from the fire escape... when his mind settled on the coughing fit and the fact that he'd passed out, he breathed in sharply. His eyes went down to his hand, glancing at where the blood would have been. It was gone, like someone had wiped it away.

Blinking, he turned to look back at Prompto. "What happened? Where's... where are we?" he asked, looking around the unfamiliar house and then letting his eyes settle back on Prompto again.

Prompto grabbed a sheath of crackers from the bedside table. "Here. Eat some, okay? I'll tell you everything as you eat. Aranea pointed out that you probably hadn't had anything to eat since the treaty signing, so you've gotta." Another bottle of water came from his pack alongside the crackers, and he set it down on the table. "You can drink that when you're ready, too."

With a nod, Noctis tore open the crackers and started eating them like his life depended on it. Probably not all that inaccurate, honestly. They were the first real food that he'd had in at least a day. "Where are we?" he repeated, his mouth full of crackers, crumbs falling from his lips as he spoke.

Usually, Prompto probably would have laughed at that, but no laughter came. Instead, he leaned his elbows onto the bed, put his face in his hands, and sighed a heavy sigh. "We're with Aranea and a friend of hers. The friend... Noct, you won't even believe me if I try to tell you who it is." There was no humor in his tone. He met Noctis' eyes, but didn't smile. Astrals, he looked exhausted.

"Who?" Noctis asked simply.

This time, he did laugh, though it was a hollow and slightly humorless one. "Cid. Cindy's freakin' grandfather. Apparently your dad or Cor or someone asked him to come out here and be like, a supplier for us or something. He's got a ton of Lucian stuff that's useful. Clothes that we can change into-" He paused to gesture down to his clothes, which had formerly been ripped and torn, and now looked clean and fresh- "food, water, guns. Your dad even sent the weapons and stuff that you and the Big Guy trained with."

Noctis wanted to be happy about it. He really did. Cid had always been a good friend to his dad, and had offered to have Cindy work for him, to get her out of Lucis and into safety in Insomnia. He refused to move to the city himself, but that didn't mean that he wasn't still an ally. If Noctis remembered correctly, he'd always sort of been an informant. Delivering information from Lucis to Insomnia, keeping his dad in the loop of things that took place outside of the city, when he couldn't go and look for himself. Cid being here was a good thing, for that reason alone. He couldn't really allow himself to feel too happy, though.

Instead, he felt sick. Remembering how he felt before he'd passed out, however long ago. Remembering Aranea's mention of an infection, and how these villagers wanted to turn him into some kind of brainwashed servant to their god or something. Any happiness that he _wanted_ to feel was severely muted. He glanced at Prompto.

"Change of clothes, huh?" he asked. It was hard to ignore a _slight_ feeling of happiness at the thought of getting clean clothes on. "Any chance for a shower?"

Prompto smirked. "Yeah, he's got one. Clean water, too. Not the infected crap they drink here," he added.

Noctis chuckled a little bit at that, in spite of himself. "A shower sounds like a dream right now, pretty much. I've been in this same dirty suit since before the treaty signing, and I feel like a sweaty, gross towel that someone used to dry off with." He paused, managing a tiny smirk as he looked up at Prompto. "That's probably a little bit of an exaggeration, honestly, but-"

"No, I don't think it is," Prompto pointed out, smiling a half-smile that was tinged with sadness. "You want me to help you into the bathroom? Or at least show you where it is?"

It all came down to a choice between eating more crackers before or after he took a shower, really, but it was a tough choice to make. "Part of me says 'get me into the clean water right now, please and thank you,' but the rest of me thinks these crackers taste better than anything I've ever eaten in my life, so..." He shrugged his shoulders.

With a weak laugh, Prompto shrugged. "I think Cid's got real food in his kitchen. Aranea was talking about making garulessa sandwiches or something like that. So, if you wanna go shower now, I'll see if she's finished, or if she needs any help finishing, and then we can meet downstairs and get some real food in your stomach while we wait for Gladio to get here," he suggested. "I can see about getting you a change of clothes, too."

Noctis smirked. In spite of how miserable he felt, and how terrified he was of potentially turning into some kind of mindless drone, Prompto was always there. It was kind of a give and take relationship, what they had. They saw each other at dark moments and picked each other back up, and shared all their best memories together. Honestly, Noctis didn't know how he'd have handled living the life he'd lived without Prompto there to show him how to be normal. All of their crazy memories, the times Prompto would sneak him out of the Citadel or when they'd cut classes together once Noctis started going to public school as a teenager. All of the times when Prompto was literally the only person who could convince him to drag himself out of bed to face the day.

What would his life be without Prompto? Probably the same way Prompto's life would be without him, honestly. He'd lifted Prompto up a lot, too. There were times, when his abilities manifested, and when no one could tell him where they'd come from and why he was the only person they knew of that had them, when Prompto had some pretty dark thoughts. Dark wishes. Those times, Noctis was grateful that he couldn't be lastingly harmed. At least not as far as they'd found.

After shoving another couple of crackers into his mouth unceremoniously, he breathed a sigh. "I guess Gladio won't hesitate to give me crap if I _look_ like crap when he gets here, right?" he mused, before pushing himself up into a properly seated position.

"I mean, yeah. It's kinda his job, though," Prompto pointed out, reaching out to help him stand properly.

It wasn't really necessary, Noctis' legs weren't really in pain or anything, but Noctis didn't say anything. Instead, he put his hands in Prompto's, and barely resisted the urge to hug him when he stood up. "Thanks. Y'know. For being the best," he murmured.

Prompto, even though Noctis looked like he'd lost a fight with a pile of dirt and probably smelled worse, didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around Noctis' shoulders and hug him tight. "I'm just... I'm just glad you're okay. That we got here before it got too bad, and that we can kick the _asses_ of whoever tried to do this to you." His voice was a threatening hiss, and it made a swell of selfish happiness rise in Noctis' chest.

When Noctis returned the hug, he felt none of the hesitation that he'd been feeling anymore. He hugged Prompto tightly, then smiled weakly as he pulled back and their eyes met. "Have I told you today how awesome you are?" he asked.

"Gladio's on his way here, too. After he checks out the church on the other side of town, anyway," Prompto told him, smiling that same smile that could move mountains. "Talked to him about fifteen minutes ago. He's got someone with him, and that someone happens to know how to cure what the two of you have going through your systems. So, when we meet up, all five of us are gonna head out to Gralea."

Gralea? Noctis blinked. "So, this parasite thing or whatever is Niff made?" He honestly wasn't as surprised as his voice made it sound like he was. Especially since he was still pretty sure that they were in Niflheim, and since he'd gone missing during a treaty signing with Niflheim. One plus one made two, after all.

Prompto nodded. "We're not there, though. We're about three days out, actually, in Ulwaat." He paused, smirked, wiped an errant bit of dirt from Noctis' face with a gentle stroke of his thumb, and then said, "I'll tell you everything after you shower, okay? I promise. While you eat lunch and while we wait for Gladio. I think a shower will make you feel better-"

"And make me not smell like a chocobo's backside, you mean?" Noctis teased with a smirk.

Prompto half-smiled, then nodded his head. "I mean, I wasn't gonna say anything, but... yeah." He wrinkled his nose and waved his hand in front of it. "I do think you'll feel better after a shower, though. Wasn't lying about that." Releasing his hands from Noctis' arms, he raked his teeth over his lip.

He wasn't wrong, honestly. Noctis just nodded his head and brushed his hands down his shirt, straightening it needlessly. After he agreed, Prompto showed him down the hall, toward the bathroom. Truthfully, were he in his right mind and thinking with any sort of manners, he probably would have gone downstairs to thank Cid for everything. To thank him for helping Noctis' dad, for taking him in, even knowing that he was infected, and for letting him stick around until he woke up. _And_ for a shower and food before they got back on the road. Afterward, he'd probably have more of his brain functioning normally.

As he stepped into the bathroom, he swung the door closed and leaned against it before finally starting to peel his uncomfortably dirty clothes from his flesh. The black suit looked like he'd been rolling around in mud that had long since dried over, or been in some kind of dirt fight. There was blood dried onto the tie, hard to notice from any sort of distance, but easier up close. Noctis' lips drew together into a thin line, and he walked over to the mirror.

Now that he was in a normally lit room, with a mirror in front of him, it was all the more obvious that something wasn't right. Noctis didn't exactly have sun-kissed skin by any stretch of the imagination. He wasn't tan like Gladio, he didn't have any freckles that the sun's rays brought more into the open like Prompto. Still, looking at his visage in the mirror, he could very clearly see the difference. He was several shades paler than usual, and his skin looked clammy, almost. It didn't _feel_ clammy or anything. It was still normal, still smooth in most places, but it looked like he'd been sweating up some kind of storm.

Noctis frowned. Infected with a parasite, huh? A parasite that would turn him into some kind of willing servant of whatever crazy cult that had taken over this town. His eyes weren't much different. Maybe there was the slightest bit of paling to the normal blue, but other than that, they looked much the same. None of the people he'd run into so far had pale eyes. They'd all had blood red. Angry shades of red that looked like they belonged on some video game monster instead of on a real person. Noctis was a little surprised that his own eyes weren't reddening. Surprised, but grateful. Not that paling was much better.

It would be okay. It wasn't too late. Prompto and Gladio would find some way to help him.

Breathing a nervous breath, he finished stripping down and stepped into the shower. It was hardly luxurious, but he didn't really expect it to be. It was small and the water was lukewarm, but it was a closed-off place, covered by a dark blue curtain, and the water didn't smell bad like the water they'd tried to force him to drink, so he wasn't going to look a gift chocobo in the mouth. Not at all.

Prompto was right. As the water washed over him, he already felt a lot better. It stung a bit when it touched the split in his lip, and hurt a bit when he splashed it over his bruised eye, but other than that, everything felt better. The smell of the soap was way better than the smell of his own sweat mixed with the light, lingering odor of death that seemed to be ever-present in the town and in all the surrounding areas. As he rinsed the soap from his arms, he leaned his head back and let the water run down his neck, breathing a relaxing breath and staring at the ceiling of the small bathroom. It, much like what Noctis had seen of the rest of the small cabin, was falling apart. Somehow, it felt way better than the other room he'd been in.

As he lathered up a bit of shampoo in his hands to wash his hair, he heard the door to the bathroom creak open and jumped a little, almost slipping on a soap slick on the floor. "Wh-who's there?!" he called out.

The voice that replied was a relief, but at the same time, it really wasn't. Prompto called out, "sorry! I figured you'd, y'know, want some clothes for when you're done. And a towel, too, to dry off with," with a gentle chuckle. "You alright in there?"

Noctis felt heat rising to his cheeks, even though the water was only lukewarm. His feelings for Prompto weren't anything new. He'd been living with them for damn near five years now. It wasn't even really the first time either of them had been in close proximity with one another while they were naked. Gym classes in school had forced them to shower near one another all the time. More than that, too, was the fact that they did things like going to pool parties or hanging around in places with hot tubs... they'd changed in the same room before and everything. It wasn't even the first time they'd done something like this, really. When Prompto slept at Noctis' apartment and vice versa, they'd had to bring towels and changes of clothes into the bathroom for one another all the time.

This was different, though. This shower wasn't like his. Or Prompto's, really. Prompto's shower was hidden behind a thick, black, curtain that Noctis couldn't see through. Not that he'd _tried_ or anything, but he knew enough to know the answer. Okay. Maybe he'd tried once, when his curiosity got the better of him. He'd had a crush for five years, after all. He'd never seen anything, though. The curtain was too thick to even make out a silhouette. Noctis' own shower was sort of lipped off in an 'L' shape from his bathroom, so there was no way that anyone else could see unless they were looking. This curtain, Noctis didn't know if it was strong enough not to be see-through, but he had to hope. Mostly because, Noctis was pretty sure he'd never really been completely naked in front of Prompto before.

It wasn't as though he was in _front_ of Prompto or anything. The light probably only threw off a shadow, so it wasn't like there was anything new that Prompto hadn't already seen before. That didn't change, though, that he felt more than a little bit self-conscious.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he finally answered Prompto. "Just... took me by surprise. How're things in the kitchen? Any word from Gladio?"

Prompto hummed a negative answer. "Not yet," he explained. "Figure he's on the way, though. Aranea gave him pretty good directions, but when she did, he said he already had a map. Got some coffee and a sandwich downstairs waiting for you. And Cid wants to talk to you, too. Said he's got a couple different weapons for you to choose from."

Noctis nodded, glancing down at the floor of the shower. Weapons. He guessed he hadn't really realized that he'd probably have to fight people off. It made sense, and it was probably dumb of him not to have pieced that together by then, but he'd hoped that the group of them could just escape to Gralea together, cure Noctis of whatever parasite they'd infected him with, and then go home to Insomnia. Naive of him to think that it could possibly be that simple. He stretched his neck and turned toward the faucet.

"Alright," he answered Prompto. "Think I'm ready to get out now, if you wanna go wait for me downstairs. I'll be right there."

With a hum of agreement, Noctis could see Prompto's shadow through the curtain as he turned on his heel and made his way out of the bathroom. When the door clicked closed, Noctis slid the curtain back and stepped his feet down on the dirty, wooden floor. It was uncomfortable, and he made a face at the damage that this was probably doing to the floor, but it probably wasn't a permanent house. Especially since Cid was a Lucian, and Noctis knew for a fact that he had a garage and a house back in Hammerhead, just outside of Insomnia. He wrapped the towel—a large, blue towel that wasn't really _comfortable_ , but did more than served its purpose—around his waist and glanced down at the change of clothes that Prompto had brought.

Way more practical than the suit he'd been in, honestly. It was a black t-shirt, sweater, and jeans, with a single shoulder holster and a thigh holster as well, a black utility belt, and black combat boots. Yeah, way more comfortable. And way easier to maneuver around in. He smiled softly, grabbing the pair of black boxer briefs from the top of the pile and tugging them up to his hips.

Dressing himself in record time—at least as record as the time could be with the holsters and utility belts slowing him down as much as they were—he took one last glance at himself in the mirror. Pale skin, pale eyes, and no product in his hair, but otherwise, he looked pretty much the same as normal. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it a little bit and letting it fall into a mess on top of his head. It didn't really matter now. He wasn't making himself look special for anyone. And it wasn't like he looked _terrible_ without his hair styled, anyway. He wasn't a primadonna or anything. He didn't need to look perfect while he was running around through a war zone.

With that in mind, he stepped toward the door and opened it. It was a little difficult to maintain normalcy, when he still had that vague tickle in the back of his throat, like what had caused his coughing fit before, and when he could almost feel the parasite swimming under his skin, but he tried. The stairs creaked with his every step, and the boots that Prompto had brought him were half a size too big, but it was way, way better than the dirty clothes and dress shoes that he'd been in before.

As he got closer to the bottom of the stairs, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee hit his nose. An Insomnian blend. Insomnian Caramel, he was pretty sure. His favorite. His dad had sent his favorite coffee over. Of course he had, honestly. It made him smile more than it had any right to in a place like this.

He looked around the kitchen once his feet hit the floor at the bottom of the stairs. Aranea stood near a window, looking down into her hand and talking to someone over a small video communication device. Prompto sat at the table, mixing a cup of coffee, before taking a sip from a different cup and putting a little bit of mustard on a sandwich. That had to be his, honestly. Prompto could stand mustard, Noctis couldn't. It ruined a whole meal for him. He stepped forward, and from the corner of his eye, he spotted Cid as he stepped toward Aranea and looked down at the communication device over her shoulder.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that they were talking to Cindy, especially given the fond smile that the old man flashed down at the device.

Noctis wanted to talk to Cid, definitely, but for now, he breezed past them and walked up to the table. He was hungrier than he ever recalled being before. So much so that he didn't even bother to scan the sandwich for lettuce or tomato to pull out. He lifted it from the plate before he even sat in his chair, and it was already halfway stuffed in his mouth when he sat down.

"Hi to you, too," Prompto teased, though the jab was halfhearted as he stirred his coffee and took a long, slow sip.

With a smirk and a shrug, Noctis spoke around a mouthful of garulessa meat. "Hey, you got me all hyped up about sandwiches, alright?" he asked, making a face as he maneuvered his tongue around a piece of lettuce. He was so hungry, though, that he didn't bother to tug it out of his mouth, and _still_ didn't bother to remove it from his sandwich. More food, even if it was vegetables, was preferable to less. That was the way he felt at the moment.

Prompto seemed to take notice, too, because he chuckled a soft note. "You _must_ be starved," he teased. "I couldn't get Cid to leave the lettuce or tomato off when he was making 'em, and you didn't even bother to take it out."

"I'm screaming internally," Noctis joked, but pretty much belying his words immediately after that, he jammed another monstrous, Gladio-sized bite of sandwich into his mouth. Honestly, he didn't even know that he could eat like that.

After another drink of coffee, Prompto huffed a gentle chuckle. "Man, wait'll I tell the Big Guy that you're eating so fast that you put him to shame," he joked. "All that crap you give him for not bothering to taste the food he eats and look at you. Would you kill me if I snapped a pic?" He smiled with his eyes, reaching for his phone in his pocket.

Scoffing, Noctis nodded. "Yes, I'd kill you if you snapped a pic!" he answered. "Especially since I'm pretty sure I have ranch on my face! That'd be all over the Lucian tabloids in pretty much no time!"

Through Prompto's laughter, two sets of footsteps echoed through the room as Aranea and Cid crossed the room. Cid looked Noctis over, his eyebrows furrowing in concern and his expression falling. It was pretty obvious that he'd noticed the color change in Noctis' skin. The slight paleness of his eyes. Cid walked around and placed a gently clasping hand on Noctis' shoulder.

"Sorry 'bout what those weirdos did to you, kid." Cid's words were gentle, but his eyes were knowing.

Aranea's tone was sarcastic, but there was the same warmth as Gladio gave when he was teasing Noctis, too. "About time you joined us, Prince Charmless," she spoke gently, taking one of the two remaining chairs around the table.

Huffing a laugh, Noctis rolled his eyes. "Guess it'd probably be hopeless to ask you not to call me Prince Charmless?" he asked her.

She shrugged her head. "I mean, I could stop. But it's so fitting, isn't it? You're the prince, you have the charm of a wet napkin..." She grabbed an empty coffee cup and refilled it with her own coffee. "Drink up. Blondie here made sure I didn't make yours because he knows you like it a 'certain super special way.' Isn't that right, Blondie."

Prompto scoffed. "I didn't say it like that!" he insisted, casting his eyes down to the floor.

After a breath of gentle laughter, Cid's expression went serious. "Back on track. You kids're waitin' for Amicitia and Scientia, right?"

Scientia. That name sounded really familiar to Noctis. Like someone he'd met back at the Citadel, but so many people went in and out of his life that it was kind of difficult to tell. A business associate of his dad's, maybe? If Cid knew them, he guessed that it was possible. The person with the suppressant pills, who was going to take them to the cure, Noctis figured. Whoever it was, they were with Gladio, so Noctis could only assume that he was right.

Aranea answered with complete confidence, though. "Yeah. We're supposed to meet with 'em here and then head to Gralea. That mean you're gonna be packing all this crap back up and heading back to Insomnia?" she asked him.

With a soft chuckle, Cid shook his head no. "Much as I'd like to, Reggie told me t'stay near you kids an' make sure y'all don't get yerselves in over your heads. Provide y'all with some kinda base camp and make sure y'all can always get in touch with Cindy. Got places like this set up all over, from Ulwaat to Tenebrae. Beyond there, though, y'all'll have to improvise." He paused, releasing his hold on Noctis' shoulder and moving to a table filled with paperwork.

"So, you've got places set up, but he's gonna stay here, I hope..." Aranea asked, her tone making sure Cid knew that she didn't want him leaving.

Cid nodded. "Other places ain't as nice as this one, but they got what you need. Ammo's in a locked basement, showers, places to make food so y'all don't starve to death," he explained as he grabbed a key from the desk, too. "Kid can heal, but I'm pretty sure he ain't gonna heal from starvin' to death." He handed Prompto the key and the map, and then beckoned for Noctis to follow him.

Sandwich in hand, Noctis stood from his seat and tried to ignore the squirming that he felt beneath his skin. He took a quick sip of coffee, glanced at Prompto and Aranea as they looked the map over, and then turned to follow behind Cid. Cid didn't speak, instead just led Noctis to a bulkhead behind the staircase he'd used to come down from the bathroom. Noctis looked around at the bare bones living area once more—the old-style radios and all of the war room essentials, and at Prompto and Aranea as they discussed what they saw on the map—before following Cid through the bulkhead.

The ladder to the lower level was old and rickety, but both Noctis and Cid made it down in one piece. Cid reached over his head, tugging on a pull-string and bathing the whole area in the glow of the overhead light. And that was when Noctis realized what the room was. An armory. Not a classic armory like the one at the Citadel, with old weapons and relics from ages past—though there were a couple of blades there—but an armory teeming to the brim with guns. Prompto had mentioned a couple of weapons, but Noctis had never expected anything like this.

Cid turned to him. "Wanted you to realize that yer not gonna be gettin' out of this without sheddin' some blood, kid." His words were harsh, but his tone and his gaze were gentle. "Not yer own, Six willin', but yer gonna have to fire some shots."

Noctis knew that, realistically, he was right. Prompto had already had to take out a couple of the villagers, and if Noctis wanted to live to see the other side of this, he'd have to, too. Still, he'd never had to kill anyone before. Most of his training was only for self-defense, which, he supposed, this was. Kill or be killed. That was something that his dad, Uncle Clarus, Uncle Cor, and Gladio had repeated a thousand times while they'd trained Noctis. There would be times when he'd have to take a life to save his own or someone else's. That time, he was quickly realizing, was fast-approaching.

"Pick whatever you can carry, kid. You'll want melee and ranged, 'cause them cultists ain't messin' around."

With a glance to Cid, and then to the table of weaponry, before selecting a pistol, a stun rod, and a small machine gun. The machine gun went to his leg holster, the pistol to his shoulder holster, and the stun rod hooked to his waist. As soon as he chose, Cid went over to a table filled with ammunition, took as much as he could carry in two hands, put them into a side pack, and hooked the pack to Noctis' belt. In his other hand, he took a simple combat knife in a sheath and hooked it to Noctis' belt, too.

Then, he placed a hand firmly on Noctis' shoulder. "You ready to do whatever you have to do to get through this, kid? Blondie can't carry your ass the whole way." As harsh as the words were, Noctis could clearly hear the intent.

He nodded vehemently. "As ready as I'll ever be. I'm not going to be one of them. Ever," he insisted. At least, not without a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pfff, you guys thought I was gonna kill Noct, didn't you?


	12. Church

The church was one of the best looking buildings in the whole village. The lights from inside reflected from the stained glass image of some guy in a long black robe. His face was mostly obscured, save for bright red eyes that made Gladio uncomfortable, even in stained glass form. The colors from the window bathed the ground in front of the church in a multicolored glow, that was pretty clearly visible from where Gladio and Ignis stood a few feet away, in the shadows of the tree line. Gladio reached to his belt and grabbed for his binoculars, raising them to his eyes and taking a look around for any heat signatures.

"There's one person in there," Gladio told Ignis, who was keeping lookout around the outside. "Could be Noct, but I can't be sure."

Ignis made a gentle hum, and then glanced at Gladio, holding his hand out. "May I? I may be able to answer a little bit better," he questioned, expectant green eyes watching Gladio for a reaction.

At first, Gladio was going to ask. He was going to question exactly how Ignis was so sure that he could figure out who someone was just from the shape of their body, especially since he didn't really know Noctis that well. It occurred to him, though, as he stood considering it, that it probably had to do with body temperature and infection rate, or something like that. So, he nodded his head and offered the binoculars over to Ignis, watching as the man raised them to his eyes. While he appraised the building, Gladio appraised him. Ignis was very much not one of those people that he normally would have thought much about. He looked more bookish than combat trained. He'd obviously proven that not to be true, sure, but he still looked like he was a little bit out of place. Still, almost as though he was out to prove Gladio wrong in exactly that instant, he turned toward Gladio and offered the binoculars back.

"It isn't Noctis," he answered, smoothing a hand down his shirt as he turned to look back toward the church. "The infection is far too strong in his blood, and the parasite wouldn't have had a chance to replicate quite that strongly yet. There are only two people in town that have that high of a reading. Only one of them spends his time at this church, and he's also far thinner than the other. The second is a rather portly man-"

Gladio nodded. "Ulldor, right?"

With a nod, Ignis chuckled softly. "I completely forgot that I even mentioned him to you, but I suppose I did, didn't I. Yes, Ulldor. He's portlier than Drautos is. Which likely means that it's Drautos in there." He glanced back at the building. "We have two options. We could leave here, and go to the meeting point to wait for Prompto, Aranea, and Noctis. Or, we could use this to our advantage." He turned to look at Gladio, obviously uncertain but trying to hide it.

Use it. How, exactly, did he plan to use it? He tilted his head to the side, watching Ignis as the gears in his mind worked. "How do we use it?" he asked.

"Well," Ignis started, "as far as anyone on the Star side of things is concerned, I'm only accompanying you to monitor the progression of your parasite and bring you back to them once its incubated, correct? If we could, somehow, convince them that you've switched sides? That I've somehow managed to charm you over to willingly work with Star? There is much that we could learn from Drautos."

Gladio looked back at the church, too, through his binoculars. The man was on an upper floor, which more than likely meant that _they_ would have to get to the upper floor, too. Unless, somehow, the man heard them coming into the building and came down to meet them. Really, Gladio wasn't any kind of actor. He didn't fake things well, but if he stayed quiet and let Ignis do most of the talking, if he only spoke when and if Drautos spoke to him, he could probably manage to play the part of some kind of willing shill to the empire and whatever schemes they had going on.

With a huff of humorless laughter, Gladio turned to Ignis and said, "you could charm me to do a lot of things. Can't say I'd be too good of a Star shill, though."

Ignis looked at him, flustered, and blinked a couple of times. "I... I beg your pardon?" he asked, blinking a couple of times and then staring, green eyes wide, at Gladio.

This time, the laughter did have humor mixed in. There was something endearing about seeing a man so obviously put together, as flustered as he was. "Nothing. Never mind," he answered. "As long as I don't have to talk much, I think we can pull it off. You'll do most of the talking, right?" Because, honestly, it would probably take everything he had not to bust the door down and throttle the guy.

"Yes," Ignis nodded. "I'm fairly certain that there is no love lost between Drautos and I, but I don't suspect that he'll address you. He thinks of Lucians as lower life forms." The spite in his voice was almost visible in the air as the words came out.

It made Gladio laugh a little bit. "You say that there's no love lost, but it sounds to me like you flat out hate the guy," he pointed out with a one-shouldered shrug. "Not that I blame you. I mean, I'm pretty sure I hate pretty much everyone who's really involved with Star Corp, so..."

But Ignis shook his head. "Most people involved with Star aren't involved by choice. Don't hate them. They've been brainwashed, much the same way you would be if I hadn't found you and decided to cure you." It wasn't a threat or a warning, just a reminder that circumstances here weren't exactly black and white. That there was an uncomfortable amount of gray.

Gladio could do black and white, but he had a very difficult time when the lines between the two were blurred out. Ignis was an exception, though Gladio still wasn't sure exactly how he was managing to so obviously cross that line. "Right."

Before he could apologize, Ignis breathed in a slow and steady breath. "I know you've mentioned it, but I would like to remind you that I will have to do most of the talking here. If he addresses you, respond respectfully, because Drautos doesn't take well to subordinates treating him with anything but the utmost respect. I suspect that being trained under the crown like you have will likely help you. Imagine him as a superior back in Lucis that you do not like," he suggested.

There weren't many, really, but Gladio would try. He nodded, and followed behind Ignis. "Or, I could just act like I'm completely charmed by you," he mused with a little grin. Not _full_ acting, because he was definitely intrigued by the guy. Not so much that he'd willingly turn his back on the crown, but enough that he was going against all of his better instincts to trust him.

Ignis flustered once again, staring down at the gravel beneath their feet as they walked, and then turning to look back up toward the door. "If you would rather play it that way, then I cannot stop you," he murmured under his breath. "However, while you're playing the role, have your trigger finger ready. I cannot guarantee that he won't open fire on us at the slightest provocation. It wouldn't be ideal, but he's got such delusions of grandeur, and being the proprietor of this church does not exactly help to stave them off."

Once they got to the door, Ignis stopped, turned, and glanced at Gladio. "Are you ready?" he asked.

Not really, no. But he nodded his head all the same and watched as Ignis reached his hand up to push the large, wooden door open. Once he stepped inside, the eerie feeling only doubled. It looked like a very morphed version of any other church that Ignis had ever seen. The murals on the walls showed images of people with split open necks and weird looking insect-like appendages growing where their heads would have been, and gigantic monster arms like the man in the field near the village. Above them all was the same robed man in the stained glass window, with his hood up high and his piercing red eyes the only thing visible.

Gladio almost regretted saying that he was ready.

Ignis hummed a soft note. "Many of these murals are on buildings in Gralea," he explained softly as he glanced at one particularly large one on the ceiling. This one was of a man with _both_ arms as giant scythes, and the man in the robe placing what looked like it was supposed to be a healing hand on the top of his head. The black robed man was obviously some kind of deity here. All he served to do was give Gladio the creeps.

"Do you know who that guy is?" he asked, trying to be casual.

When Ignis shook his head no, he wasn't sure if he was relieved or not. "I've been trying to figure that out for months, but am no closer than I was when I started," he admitted with a discouraged heave of a sigh.

Gladio frowned. For every answer, there was another question. "Whoever he is, he seems like a real winner," he joked.

Responding with a soft chuckle, Ignis nodded and took a glance around the room. "It appears that the church here follows much the same pattern as the rest of the village. While it's far more solid in build, there are no staircases, and I've seen no sign of any technological prowess whatsoever. I know, however, that Drautos and Ulldor possess such things. They likely keep them under tight lock and key, to keep them away from the villagers. Though I'm uncertain of what they think the villagers will accomplish with them available. Especially since they're but brainwashed thralls," he admitted.

As Gladio looked around the church, he shrugged. "Dangle a carrot in front of anyone's nose, and they'll respond somehow. Not sayin' I agree with 'em, obviously, but I get why they're keepin' it all under wraps." He approached the ladder on the right side of the room.

Ignis hummed a thoughtful node and nodded his head as he stepped up to the ladder. "Yes, I suppose I can see the appeal, as much as I don't want to admit it," he murmured in response as he started up the ladder without any hesitation.

Gladio let him get up a few steps, before starting up as well, and when they were on the upper floor, he took a glance back down at the ground floor. From up here, Gladio could see that even the floor was decorated in the same eerie murals as the walls. Delusions of grandeur seemed to be sort of a symptom of being an imperial ally. Whoever this guy in the black cloak was, with the red and piercing eyes, he had such a sense of self-importance that he'd turned this whole church into more of a shrine to himself. Gladio himself had never been a terribly religious man, but he supposed that it was somewhat par for the course with cults. Take what most people used to model their lives around and warp it, so that they gave up all of their humanity to worship what you stood for. It made a sick sort of sense, but all it served to do was make Gladio all the more determined to wipe this place off the map.

With a hand on his crossbow, Ignis started down the hallway and toward the side of the building where Gladio had seen the bright red heat signature. Before they could make it any further, though, the door on the other side of the room swung open in a grand motion and hit the wall with a loud crash that, much as he absolutely hated to admit it, startled Gladio.

"Well," an unfamiliar voice called, "of all the people I expected to see today, Scientia, you are not one of them."

The ease with which Ignis turned the switch from friendly to not-so-friendly was almost eerie. "You know why I'm here, Drautos. I was sent to gather Amicitia here, and monitor the growth of his parasite. Izunia is none too pleased that you simply left him on the other side of the lake to turn unsupervised," he lied coolly.

With a breath of laughter through his nose, Drautos shrugged a shoulder. "As pleased as I'm sure he'll be that you were so upfront with all of this information as the man stood right behind you, I'm certain," he muttered, his lips a thin straight line as he crossed his arms over his chest.

For a minute, Gladio almost allowed himself to be convinced that Drautos was the man in the robe from the murals. A closer look told him that no, that wasn't the case. The robe was similar, but the trim around the edges and the buttons themselves were made of copper or bronze instead of gold, and the robe itself was less black, more charcoal gray. He wanted to take a look at the murals to be sure, but he didn't trust Drautos enough to turn his back for even a second. Maybe Ignis, but even that was a new and tentative trust. He wasn't sure where Ignis' loyalties were at all, beyond his own hunch.

Especially with how effortlessly it seemed like he'd flipped his friend or foe switch. Ignis tilted his head to the side, his tone a mockery of casual conversation. "My orders, Drautos, were to gather Amicitia, and see if I could do what you didn't even try to do, and persuade him to our cause willingly," he explained. "It really only took the basic pitch. Shame you jumped straight to brute force, isn't it? Had you not, Izunia's favor could be yours, instead of mine."

A flash of amusement crossed Gladio's face at the way Drautos' smile seemed to fall from his face like someone had physically dropped it. "Favor is fleeting, Scientia. You'd be wise to know your place," he spat.

Ignis was, or at the very least, appeared, unshaken. "You as well, Drautos." It was equal parts warning and mockery.

"That's Bishop Drautos, to you," Drautos answered coldly. He turned his attention to Gladio, then, and appraised him closely. "You. Lucian. What's your name again?"

This was the real test. Could Gladio put on enough of an act to fool this man who was so obviously already suspicious of Ignis—and most likely of Gladio, by proxy—into thinking that he was some ally to their cause? He stood up straight and formal, the training he'd done for his whole life helping him out to look respectful and intimidated enough, even if he actually wasn't. That was a lesson that his dad had taught him young. Always look intimidated by superiors, even if he genuinely wasn't. While he wasn't, not really, there was a certain level of intimidation provided by the fact that this man had _already_ injected him with the parasite that turned this whole place into a mess, so that wasn't so hard to fake.

With his faux-intimidation in place, Gladio spoke. "Amicitia, sir. Gladiolus, if first names are important."

Drautos shook his head no. "They aren't. Last names aren't, either. If I wanted to call you Sally, I would," he chided, stepping up to Gladio and examining him closely.

"Yes sir," was Gladio's simple reply.

Humming a note, Drautos met his eye. "You've decided to join us, then. Suffice it to say, I have my suspicions about Scientia. The way he appeared out of nowhere with no record of his past and managed to worm his way right into Izunia's circle. Must've taken a generous helping of boot-licking. I do hope his boots were clean," he mocked Ignis, before turning his attention back to Gladio. "I would like to monitor the parasite's progress, if you will."

It was like all of the military inspections that he'd seen his dad go through over the years. All of his own Crownsguard inspections. Kind of like that, anyway—only not even remotely. Drautos looked him over, examining his skin tone and picking one of his arms up from where it rested at his side to look at his veins. Drautos' touch was fire-hot to Gladio's skin, and he felt all the more uncomfortable because of it. As much as he wanted to look down and see what Drautos was looking at, he held back. He couldn't. Respect was hard to fake, but Gladio would do it. It was better than letting Drautos in on the scheme that he and Ignis had concocted.

To his right, Ignis looked equally as uncomfortable as Gladio was. "Drautos, I hardly see this as necess-"

"I don't believe I asked you, Scientia," Drautos seethed. "It doesn't seem as though the parasite is proceeding as quickly as it should be." He turned to look at Ignis. "His temperature is barely higher than it was before I administered his dose, and his veins are still the same color. His skin has paled, but other than that, it seems to be going slowly. Do you think the dosage was too small? I have more here, if it's necessary to re-administer."

In the back of Gladio's mind was a question as to why Drautos was asking Ignis, but he remembered Ignis telling him that the past couple of years, he'd researched the parasite in Niflheim. Sympathy cropped up, because if the story was true, being this knowledgeable about something he was so strongly against had to be tough. If it was, Ignis didn't let it show. For the briefest second, a flash of _something_ crossed Ignis' face, but just as quickly it disappeared in place of a new layer of calm. Distrust, but calm. Ignis was admirable, Gladio had to admit. He'd never been _that_ good with projecting fake calm.

Ignis shook his head no. "I don't believe that will be necessary, no. A glance from the outside can't really tell you the speed of the parasite's incubation. Many outside variables could affect its host's appearance. Outside temperature, whether he's ingested any of the water from around here... need I go on?"

With a heave of a frustrated sigh, Drautos shook his head no. "Please, don't. That voice of yours is far more grating than anything I have been forced to listen to in my entire life," he answered, dropping Gladio's arm unceremoniously back to his side. "Now, with that out of the way, what exactly were you hoping to accomplish by bringing him here? Flaunting your alleged favor with Izunia in front of my face?" The tone was mocking, and he looked at Ignis like he wanted nothing more than to swat him like a fly.

"No," Ignis answered simply, unfazed by the taunt. "Izunia simply asked me to seek out an update on the situation with the Lucian prince. We have a new bargaining chip on our side, Drautos. Our friend here should be able to convince _him_ to follow along willingly, as well, to save us some work along the way."

Wow, okay. That was well-played, and the tone was very 'if you used your brain, you would know,' which made it really hard not to smirk. He managed, though, and turned to look at Drautos, who was sighing an annoyed sigh. "One would have thought, with your close personal relationship with Izunia, that he'd have told you." A pause, and he eyed Ignis suspiciously. "Reports have the _other_ 'Lucian,'" punctuated by air quotes, "and a mercenary of unknown origin, storming the place and dispatching my best deacon. Shame. They made it right before the Spilling," he added nonchalantly.

The Spilling. Whatever that was, it didn't sound good. Gladio fought, once again, with the instinct to turn his head toward Ignis in a silent question.

"The Spilling was unsuccessful, then." A question phrased as a statement. Ignis turned toward Gladio for a split second, and then looked back to Drautos. "Do you have any idea of their next move?"

With an annoyed huff, Drautos narrowed his eyes at Ignis. "Do I appear as though I have any idea how a Lucian mind works?" he asked derisively, before turning his gaze to look at Gladio with a vicious smile on his face. "Our new brother here, however... may prove his use sooner than we anticipated." He looked Gladio over. "You were partnered with the other, correct? The one who ruined our plans?" Before Gladio could even answer—not that it probably mattered, because he already knew—Drautos hummed thoughtfully and continued. "What will their next move be? Where do they plan to take the prince once they rescue him?"

Was it a show of trust, or a test? It didn't matter, because Gladio had no intention whatsoever to fall into the trap. It was his chance, anyway, to lead them on some kind of false trail. To lead them _away_ from Aranea, Prompto, and Noctis, until the three of them could figure out a place to meet up.

"I think they were planning on taking him home. There's a scientist back in Insomnia that could probably find some kind of cure for the parasite, so they were gonna bring him home and-"

Drautos nodded. "Good. I will get guards at all of the exits, and there will be no way for anyone to exit the village without me knowing," he remarked. "Ulldor has been dispatched to the vicinity of the slaughterhouse, so they won't make it far before they run into him. It will be nice to have one of Besithia's Special Two back where we can observe him properly, too."

Just like Ignis had dangled a carrot on a stick, it seemed like Ulldor had done the same. Besithia's Special Two. This time, Gladio was unable to stop himself from casting Ignis a concerned glance. Who was Besithia, and what were his Special Two? Obviously, he didn't expect an answer right away, and proving him right, Ignis' expression stayed level as he turned to look at Drautos.

"And your plans?" Ignis asked.

With a grunt of annoyance, Drautos turned to look at Ignis. "While normally, I would tell you that it's no business of yours, I suppose since you've been assigned to guard my newest puppet, I'll have you show him to the guard house at the other side of the gondola." Drautos' eyes turned to Gladio. "Do try to familiarize yourself with the area, and with the rest of the thrall that live there. It will be your new home, after all."

Gladio's annoyance bubbled right underneath his skin, and it took every last bit of his strength to keep it hidden, but somehow he managed. The guard house. Whatever that may or may not have been, to Gladio, it sounded like it had information on what the purpose of all of this was. It didn't matter. His mission was clear. He had to get Noct and get the hell out of here. Still, the idea of knowing more, and maybe helping some of these people, was more appealing than it probably should have been. As he looked at Drautos again, he watched as the man, without any sort of goodbye—not that it mattered one way or another to Gladio—turned on his heel and headed to the same door that he'd exited through. In his wake, he left a furious Gladio, and a visibly agitated Ignis, who turned to Gladio with a scowl on his face.

"I loathe that man," Ignis finally spoke, his eyes on Gladio, showing the first sign of emotion since the whole conversation had started.

On and off like a light switch. Honestly, Gladio had to admire that. Stowing away emotions would probably confuse him; make him lose track of what was real and what wasn't. A part of him wondered if Ignis was doing that with him, a tiny smidgen of doubt that he really wished that he didn't have. Still, he'd gotten them through that conversation in one piece, and Drautos seemed to think that the parasite had been slowed more than it should have, just like Ignis said the pill would do. He _still_ hadn't given Gladio any reason _not_ to trust him.

With a half-smile, Gladio looked Ignis over. "Got that impression," he answered with a soft, half chuckle. "Got about fifty questions, but I figure that they can probably wait until we're out of here?"

Ignis nodded his head and beckoned for Gladio to follow him. "I suspect that you're curious as to whether we're doing what Drautos suggested or if I have other plans." The words were carefully selected. Not giving Drautos, if he was listening, any sort of hint as to what those plans _were_ , but sharing that alternate plans were very much there. "I must admit, I'm slightly torn. I've seen bits of this town, but the guard house is one place that they've always kept me away from, for one reason or another," he explained, stopping before they got to the door.

"So, you wanna check it out." It wasn't a question. It didn't need to be, though. Ignis had made it pretty clear.

A nod from Ignis only confirmed it.

Gladio, too, nodded, pushing the door open and closing it behind him. "I mean, I'm kinda curious, too. Maybe we can have Prompto, Noct, and Aranea meet us there?"

The gentle, ghost of a smile that spread its way across Ignis' face was a surprise. Not because he hadn't been kind so far, but because he seemed almost surprised that Gladio was so willing to go along with him. "I suppose that would be okay. I could get Prince Noctis his suppressant pills, and we could examine the guard house at the same time. Are you certain that it isn't-"

"It's not," Gladio insisted. "You think something's worth checking out there, I believe you."

Before either of them could speak up again, the sound of the church's bell echoed out from around them. Both Gladio _and_ Ignis stared up at the belfry as the bell chimed and chimed, with no sign whatsoever that it was going to stop. The sound was deafeningly loud from where they stood, and even covering his ears did nothing to suppress it. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that the bell would gather the attention of the villagers. Was it something of a siren to them? To call them to attack Gladio and Ignis? It seemed that way, which meant that they had to get the hell out of there. By the fifth chime, Ignis turned to Gladio with green eyes wide and then looked around the area for a way to escape.

Anger flashed across Ignis' face, and he glared back up at the church over his shoulder. "Drautos did this. It had to be him," he announced in a seething tone.

It wasn't necessary, though, because Gladio had already pieced that together. "Okay, so where do we go from here?"

Breathing in deeply, Ignis paused and said, "the fastest way to the guard house is by use of the gondolas, which are to the west. The problem with that is, in going west, we'd likely put ourselves in the path of endless villagers. There is a roundabout path to the east, but if we go that way, it would take us longer to get Prince Noctis his suppressants. I'm not fond of that idea any more than I am fond of having to fight through throngs of angry villagers," he confessed.

Yeah. Neither option sounded great. "There any way we can take the western path and just avoid people?" Gladio asked.

Except, as soon as the words escaped, villagers started appearing from both the west and the east. Gladio cursed under his breath and pointed to the west, through the graveyard in front of the church. "Can't make Noct wait. His parasite has been in there longer than mine. But at this rate, going west would take longer-"

Ignis grabbed Gladio's arm, took his hookshot from his belt, and aimed it at the roof of the church. "Third option," he declared, "is to wait on the roof until everyone is gone and just take the west path then. You can call Prompto from up there and tell him the new plan." And before Gladio could argue—not that he would have—Ignis had pulled him from the ground and up to the roof of the church.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: Updates will probably go down to once a week from here on out, as I will be taking on a third project. ♥ I'll obviously still keep going on this, but I need to slow down a bit or I'll burn myself out. :)


	13. Zero

"So, where are the gondolas, then?"

The group of them were already about halfway to the church when the church bells went off, and then moments later, Gladio called them and told them that plans had changed. Plans kept changing. Plans always changed, really. It was something that _always_ happened in life, which was fine, but Prompto had never really been any good at dealing with rapid-paced changes of plans. Especially not when he had extra responsibilities piled onto his shoulders. It was the first time that he wondered if, maybe, he was the right kind of person to be a bodyguard to Noctis. The wonder was quickly cast aside, though, by the fact that he was pretty sure that he'd never trust anyone else to do the job.

As soon as his mind wandered to Noctis, Prompto noticed that it seemed like he was struggling again. He'd heard Noctis say that the parasite had him feeling like he had a constant tickle in his throat. Twice, he'd had mild coughing fits after the first really bad one. At least, Prompto reasoned, none of the others had been quite as bad as that first one. No blood came up, but that didn't mean that he didn't look miserable about it.

Worry lined his eyes—which, Prompto noticed, looked very different—and while he tried to play it cool, Prompto could see right through it. Noctis could hide from a lot of people, he could hide a lot of things, but Prompto knew him well enough to know when he was struggling. Now was one of those times. Even as he did his best to help Aranea search for the new location on the map, Prompto could see an extra little crease in his brow that always meant that he was worrying. It was reasonable. Prompto was pretty worried, too. Even without the added worry about the parasite that was trying to use Noctis as a host, there was the fact that this whole situation just seemed to be composed of deathtrap after deathtrap, and that each and every one of those deathtraps was set specifically to catch them.

It would be okay. Or, as okay as it could be. Prompto wasn't going to let Noctis down. Noctis would see the other side of this even if Prompto had to die for it.

The thought of Prompto dying, though, was almost laughable. Prompto was pretty sure that was impossible, luckily. Heaving a sigh, he glanced down at his clothes. Thankfully, all of the evidence of everything that he'd been through since they got here was gone now. His clothes were clean, there were no blood spots or scars left on his body. Literally, the only blemishes on his skin were his freckles. At least he still had those.

Noctis grunted at the map as he turned away from it and looked at the path they were standing on. The church bells had acted as something of a beacon to the villagers. Prompto had watched as any villagers who'd been hanging around the area that they decided to make camp had completely abandoned their pursuit as soon as the sound went off. It should have been comforting. The fact that the way was clear should have soothed him. All it really did was make him worry about Gladio and the guy that he was with. Whoever he was. Well, that and give him the sinking feeling that something really, really bad was coming.

"Church is this way, and the gondolas are a few hundred meters before that," Aranea told them. "The only problem is that the fastest route takes us straight through the village. I'm not keen on going through there, but if the church bells attracted the attention of all of those weirdos, maybe it won't be so bad..." she reasoned, though she didn't sound too sure of it herself.

Noctis huffed a humorless laugh. "It's almost like one of those scenes in a bad movie or game. I really don't want to walk into the town under some sort of false sense of security and be ambushed or something," he pointed out, turning to look at Prompto. "Remember that scene in _Trial of the Pursued Part IV_ where Beau falls right into the psycho's trap just because they felt like they were safe?"

With a snort of laughter, Prompto gave Noctis a look. "Okay, whatever we're going through right now, it's _still_ not as bad as Trial Part IV. I think I would take this a thousand times over rather than sitting through that movie again." Not really, and obviously Noctis knew that.

Aranea pointed her thumb at Prompto. "I'm with Skinny on this one, Prince Charmless," she teased as she glanced up from the map. "Gimme crazy cultists any day of the week, but just the _idea_ of watching a Trial movie is scarier than anything we're going through here." She rolled her eyes and looked back down at the map again.

"You're scared of scary movies, Aranea?" Noctis asked, his eyebrow quirked in mild amusement.

Shaking her head, Aranea snorted a laugh. "No. I'm terrified of overproduced and under-performed pieces of silver screen garbage, though. Thought the Royal Pain would have better taste than that," she chided, raising her eyes for the briefest of moments to glance at Noctis.

The Royal Pain. Prompto had to fight with the urge to burst out laughing at that, especially with the way that Noctis was narrowing his eyes just slightly at Aranea. It wasn't a _real_ eye-narrow of anger. Well, okay. He probably wasn't completely _pleased_ about the 'Royal Pain' and 'Prince Charmless' jokes that always seemed to be thrown his way, but he didn't ever make a big deal of them. He just rolled his eyes and kept going. This time was no different, because he just shrugged and looked over her shoulder at the map.

"Whatever," Noctis retorted, his words annoyed but his grin very telling. "Beau has been through more shit in his lifetime than any of us. I'd like to see _you_ fall out of a plane and narrowly miss being chopped apart by its propeller, and not have some mental scarring."

Aranea rolled her eyes again. "How in the hell does someone fall out of a plane _and_ almost get chopped apart by its propeller? Wouldn't like... gravity have something to do with that? He'd've been more inclined to die in a pool of Bad Actor Pancake on the ground than a mix of Bad Actor Smoothie being thrown through the air." She huffed an annoyed note, then shoved Noctis away from her. "We are _not_ talking about _Trial IV_ when I'm trying to find us a route to get to the gondola in one piece, okay?" Despite her words, she was smiling just a little bit.

She wasn't exactly wrong, either. They had to feel _something_ of a sense of urgency. Yeah, it was good to keep a little bit of a positive attitude, or else Noctis would probably freak out about the parasite or the circumstance. Prompto, too, felt like he was on the brink of freaking out about having to kill those two guys back in the slaughterhouse. He didn't regret it, really, but he was just barely holding back a freak out when he thought about the fact that they probably had lives and families, and they were probably normal people at some point.

So, yeah. Thinking about _Trial IV_ was vastly preferable to thinking about their current situation. "At least Beau always manages to find someone to distract him from, though."

"Like Jessica Lewdor or whatever her name was from the last movie." Noctis smirked. "Wait. You said you weren't paying attention! All those times you fake-slept through Trial movies, you were _totally_ paying attention, weren't you?" He gave Prompto a gentle shove in the shoulder.

Overacting and pretending that the shove knocked him off balance, Prompto feigned tripping over his feet and balanced himself on a nearby tree. "I mean, listen. When you're in an action movie and the most redeeming thing about it is the romantic subplot? You're probably doing something a _little_ wrong, Noct," he teased.

Aranea snorted a laugh and nodded her head at Prompto. "Much as I agree with you, Skinny, I'm gonna have to suggest that the two of you either get a room and make out already, or shut the hell up. Because for one, you're making it difficult to focus on finding the quickest path. And for two? While those church bells grabbed the attention of the cultist freaks for the time being? I can't imagine that they'll ignore us for too long. I'd rather be on the way to the gondolas by the time they head this way." She was teasing, but she was also serious. Prompto could tell.

Which was why he nodded in response. "Alright. Sorry, Aranea. Back to playing lookout, right, Noct?"

Only, when Prompto turned to look back at Noctis, he saw that his best friend's eyes were on the horizon a little ways down the road. He was craning his neck and squinting his eyes like he was trying to get a good look at whatever had caught his eye, and Prompto immediately turned his head to follow it. It was distant, and Prompto couldn't even really make out the shape of it, whatever it was, but there was _something_ there. Something that caught the pale moonlight and glinted it back in their direction. Thankfully, the moon wasn't as bright as the sun, so it wasn't blinding, however, Prompto kind of wished for a little bit more brightness right then, so that he could figure out what it was.

"What is that...?" Prompto murmured under his breath as he reached to his belt for his flashlight.

Aranea surged forward, though, grabbing his hand before he could turn his flashlight on. "How about we don't?" she suggested sharply. "I don't know about you but I'd rather not alert whatever's over there of our presence if it has eyes."

Except, the very second that she finished speaking, from the center of the object on the horizon came a piercingly bright light that made Prompto have to reach up and cover his eyes. It looked like a car's headlight, and in the face of it, Prompto hissed in panic and slammed his eyes shut. He heard Noctis grunt, and Aranea, too. Seconds later, though, every sound in the area was overtaken by the almost deafening roar of an engine. Prompto shot his eyes up toward the sound, trying not to squint against the bright light, and he inhaled sharply when he realized what it was.

A motorcycle. A motorcycle that was revving its engine not once, not twice, but three times, and then careening toward them at top speed. It barreled in their direction, and on instinct alone, Prompto dove in Noctis' direction, wrapping his arms around his friend and yanking him to the ground a few feet away. It was just quick enough to miss the motorcycle when it arrived at where they'd been standing. When Prompto looked up, he saw that Aranea had just narrowly missed being stricken, too. She pulled herself to her feet several yards away, but before any of them had a chance to speak or to suggest that they regroup, the engine revved again.

Prompto tried to think quickly, but the echoing sound of the revving engine kept tearing his attention out of his own mind. He pulled his pistol and aimed it toward the motorcycle, but before he could fire, it started a second pass. Prompto directed Noctis behind him, despite protests from his best friend and whispered insistence that Prompto keep himself safe too, then tried to keep the motorcycle and its driver in his sights.

Aranea, too, had her assault rifle in hand, and she fired a spray of rounds in the direction of the bike. Prompto watched as it skidded to a stop, narrowly missing a tree, and the person—or Prompto could only _assume_ that it was a person—on its back went flying off in what would have been more than enough to kill most people. For a second, he allowed himself the slightest feeling of victory, and turned toward Aranea to congratulate her, but when the woman raised one hand and shook her head no, keeping her assault rifle pointed toward the wreck, the feeling faded.

What was with the panic? Whoever it was, they'd wrecked, right? Prompto turned toward the wreck, and took his second pistol out as well. He turned to Noctis, and murmured, "ready a weapon."

"Way ahead of you," Noctis answered, and when Prompto cast a quick glance over his shoulder, he saw that Noctis had his machine gun out.

Good. That was good. Except, anything good about the moment faded when Prompto turned back around and saw that the motorcycle's rider was on their feet and brushing themselves off like nothing had happened. Okay, what the hell? Other than him, he'd never seen anyone capable of something like _that_ before. Shock kept him from firing a shot, and it seemed like Aranea was feeling similarly.

Except, she collected herself faster. "Hey! Whoever you are!" she called into the darkness. "You've got three people with guns pointed at you, so it'd probably be in your best interest to show yourself before you get it from three different directions!" Her voice wasn't a shout, but it wasn't quiet, either. There was no chance that this person, whoever they were, hadn't heard her.

They didn't move at first, though. So, Prompto took that as a cue to fire a warning shot. It was aimed in their direction, but not at them, on the off chance that they were some kind of confused ally. Aranea had been an ally, after all. Who was to say that they didn't have _more_ allies out there? It was probably naive, _especially_ since they'd just ridden a motorcycle at full speed toward the group of them, twice, probably with full intent to take them out. He couldn't dismiss it, though. It was probably more hope than anything else.

When the warning shot didn't seem to have any effect, though, Prompto realized that whoever they were, they probably weren't a normal person. Closer to him than to Aranea. He realigned his aim a little, and fired a second shot in the direction of the person, whoever they were.

It was aimed perfectly... but it didn't hit, because when the shot went off, the rider just wasn't _there_ anymore. Prompto blinked, and looked around frantically for any sign of where they'd gone. The rider came to a landing right in front of Prompto and simply stared at him. It was unsettling, especially since he wore the same robes as the rest of the cultists in town, and Prompto couldn't see his face. After a couple more second spent staring, Prompto raised his pistols and took aim at the person, but before he got a chance to shoot, they disappeared again and, in a blurry flash of movement, rushed over to Noctis. He barely stopped, just long enough to reach out and grab at Noctis again, before taking off in a run to the east.

Whoever they were, they managed to take Noctis by surprise, and he dropped his machine gun in the skirmish, which meant that unless he could reach his pistol, he was relatively defenseless.

Prompto didn't need to be told twice what to do from there. The added weight of carrying Noctis had slowed them, which provided Prompto with the perfect chance to take aim and fire a shot toward their leg. They crumbled, dropping Noctis in the process and sending him to the ground, and somehow, Noctis had the mental wherewithal to grab onto their hood when he fell, tugging it back and getting Prompto a good look at them finally.

As Noctis scrambled to his feet, Prompto did what he could to memorize the hooded person's—the hooded _man's_ —face. He was older. Not ancient, but very obviously older, Prompto couldn't help but notice as the man quickly pulled himself to his feet. Way too quickly to be a normal person. Just like before, Prompto found himself thinking that the man's capabilities were very similar to his own. Blood still seeped from his leg and the wound didn't seem to be closing like it would be for Prompto, but he also didn't seem fazed by the pain.

Which was why, Prompto took aim and fired again when he noticed that the man was preparing to advance on Noctis again. It impacted with his shoulder, and though the wound was pretty obviously a normal bullet wound, whoever this guy was, it didn't stop him. What in the hell was going on in this town?

Aranea's voice caught his attention from a few feet behind him. "Ulldor. Should've known they'd send you."

The man laughed an annoyed laugh and glowered at Aranea. "Highwind. I suppose I've you to thank for the fact that every single one of my men that I sent to Piztala has stopped reporting in. I'd thought you better than cavorting with Lucian scum, though." The man waved a dismissive hand toward Noctis. But not Prompto. As much as he tried, he couldn't pretend that he didn't see that.

With a snorted laugh, Aranea fired a couple of rounds in the man's—Ulldor's—direction. Much to Prompto's horror, they didn't really seem to faze him either. He was riddled with bullet holes. Like some kind of monster, though, he still walked with confidence toward where Noctis stood, aiming his machine gun.

Prompto rushed to stand in front of Noctis protectively. As much as he knew that Noctis probably wouldn't be able to get through this without firing a shot of _some_ sort, he wanted to preserve that part of his friend for a little bit longer. Stupid, maybe. Maybe he should have been preparing him for how it felt afterward—not that Prompto had done much thinking about that particular topic either—or yelling at him not to hesitate like those old and angry salts in movies did. He couldn't bring himself to do it, though. Later. They could talk about it later. Right now, Prompto made an internal vow that this freak of a man, whoever he was, wasn't going to touch Noctis while Prompto still breathed.

However, weirdly enough, that didn't seem to be a problem. Ulldor just looked at him, his scowling lips forming up into the cockiest grin Prompto had ever seen. "Ah. One of us. I'd always _wondered_ when you would return to us, Patient Zero." He regarded Prompto in some kind of reverent gaze, which was... really creepy. Creepier, almost, than the idea of being called the Patient Zero to someone like this.

Patient Zero. What in the hell did that even mean? As much as Prompto wanted to send his mind spinning for the different possibilities, he couldn't right now. He kept his place protectively in front of Noctis, shielding him and keeping his pistols aimed at this guy, _Ulldor_ or whatever his name was, in case he decided to make any sudden movements. Honestly, it was hard to convince himself not to shoot _anyway_ , between the way that the man was looking at him right then, the way he'd called Prompto 'Patient Zero,' and the way he'd _already_ tried to make a run for it with Noctis.

The only thing keeping him from it was the fact that he'd already tried, and that it hadn't done any good whatsoever. No matter how many times he fired, and no matter how many hits he or Aranea had made, the man was still standing. Patient Zero. Those two things were probably related somehow, and the thought chilled Prompto to the bone.

Still, he didn't allow himself to think about it too much. "I'm not one of you. And if I thought it would do any good whatsoever, I'd shoot you again." The shakiness of his own voice annoyed him. Uncertainty was obnoxious, and something he'd been dealing with in regard to his own origins for his whole life. Whether Ulldor knew something about that or not, he didn't want to find out from the guy.

"I never would've expected Patient Zero to be so ungrateful," the man simply said. "You're standing between my mission and I, though. I should warn you that fighting against me won't be nearly as easy as fighting against the other villagers, and that it would behoove you greatly to step aside and just let me take what I'm here for."

Snorting an annoyed laugh, Prompto shook his head no and raised his pistols again. "Not a chance," he snapped. "Aranea. Come get Noct and make a run for it while I take care of this guy." Commands probably weren't the brightest thing for him to be throwing at Aranea, but he didn't want Noctis here, didn't want to chance being knocked out or something and having Ulldor get any chances to take him away.

Much to his surprise, though, Aranea grunted a no response. "This ain't your average Big Bad, Skinny. You may be Deadpool, but trust me. You're gonna need us-"

Prompto shook his head no, though. "I can take him! Just get out of here! Noct needs to get to-" He stopped short of revealing where they were headed- "he needs to get where we were going and you know it! You need to go. I'll catch up somehow!" Equal parts of him wanted them to go and stay. It was a stupid and annoying double-edged sword and Prompto really just wanted to _take_ that sword and jam it through Ulldor. Not that it would probably do any good.

"I'm not leaving," Noctis' voice was more resolute than Prompto had heard it in a long time.

As much as he wanted to be touched by it, as much as he wanted to be _glad_ that Noctis wasn't planning to leave his side, it was hard when he knew for a fact that the guy in front of him wanted to take Noctis away again. Still, he breathed a laugh and then said, "alright. But at _least_ stand back by Aranea. Okay? Give me some fighting room." Because if bullets wouldn't work, then maybe hand to hand would.

Noctis seemed to hesitate, but eventually, he did as Prompto asked. Prompto heard the grass behind him move with each step that Noctis took, and while he backed up, Prompto hauled back to deliver a kick to Ulldor's stomach in hopes of knocking him back and buying Noctis time to get to Aranea. Much to Prompto's surprise, though, in an effortless grab, Ulldor caught his foot in midair, and threw him backward so that he flipped head over feet and landed on his stomach on the ground. The landing knocked the wind out of him, but before he could really worry too much about what came next, he heard an echoing cacophony of rapid-fire bullets coming from both Aranea's assault rifle and Noctis' machine gun.

It seemed to be keeping Ulldor in place for the moment, kind of.

Prompto took the chance and, as soon as he could breathe again, swept his leg out to trip Ulldor and knock him to the ground. His hand found the knife on his belt, and he plunged it downward, sticking it into the man's shoulder. No cry of agony came. Nothing that would signify that he was in _any_ sort of pain. He chuckled softly, reaching a hand out and grabbing Prompto's hand. He yanked the knife out, turned it, and drove it into Prompto's stomach.

Sometimes, he wished that he had the advantage that it seemed like Ulldor had. Sometimes, he wished that his healing came along with the advantage of a lack of pain. It didn't, though. So, when the knife pierced his stomach, he cried out, a loud cry that echoed through the otherwise empty space around them. Ulldor used the advantage to push Prompto from where he'd been leaning over the man, and before he got to his feet, Prompto made a desperate plea, once again, for Noctis and Aranea to, "run." To leave. To get the hell out of here and let Prompto take care of the crazy man on his own.

Noctis, once again, refused. Aranea seemed to be trying to obey the command, but Noctis yanked out against her grasp, taking the stun rod from his belt. Ulldor advanced on him, though he finally seemed to show signs of slowing from the countless bullet holes that riddled his body. He still moved faster than he should've been able to, but it was slower than before, and it gave Noctis enough time to turn the stun rod on and thrust it out, catching the man in the arm and shocking him. Whatever things Ulldor seemed to be immune to, the force of a deadly shock coursing through his body was _not_ one of them.

He convulsed in place for a few seconds, before falling to the ground.

Once again, Prompto took the advantage, though he made an internal note that later on, he would have to talk to Noctis about not listening to him when he said to run. He yanked the knife from his stomach, hissing a pained noise again, and then crawled across the ground toward where Ulldor lay, still convulsing with shock. The knife went through the man's hand, pinning him to the ground. With a glance over his shoulder, he quietly requested that Aranea do the same with a nod of his head, and then fell to the ground, breathing deeply and staring at the sky while he waited for his healing to take the pain away.

Whatever he'd had to heal from in the past, wounds like this were always the worst. It had been much the same when he'd fallen from the fire escape back at the slaughterhouse. This, though... the pain was _almost_ enough to make him lose consciousness when it started. His shirt was soaked with blood, which should have been enough to make him lose consciousness on its own, but it wasn't. Patient Zero flashed across his mind as the healing coursed through his body and made him ache from head to toe. The name sounded familiar. Like something from a past life, or something that he was forgetting from a long time ago. Prompto knew that there was a lot about his life that he didn't know, but things like that, he thought that maybe he'd have remembered.

Eventually, Prompto became vaguely aware of the way that Aranea and Noctis were at each of his side, helping him up and escorting him away. As much as he wanted to tell them not to, he also didn't. He didn't want to be around Ulldor any more than he wanted Noctis to be taken away again. As they put some distance between themselves and Ulldor, Prompto heard Ulldor shouting furiously out into the night; cursing after them and swearing vengeance on 'Patient Zero.'

The pain slowly started to fade, and he looked at Noctis, his voice still a little bit weak as he asked, "why didn't you run?" He shrugged himself out from underneath their arms, and then turned to look at Aranea. "Why didn't _you_ run?" What good was some magic Patient Zero healing power, if people didn't let him fight crazy people on his own?

"No. Prom, I... I couldn't," Noctis simply said. "I wouldn't leave you."

Aranea shook her head. "And like I told you, Skinny," she reminded him, beckoning the pair of them to start running along with her, "he's no ordinary crazy villager. Now's not the time, though. I'll tell you when we get to the gondolas, alright?" And without waiting for an answer, she took off in a run.

Apparently, she'd found a route. Either that, or she was just winging it. It didn't matter to Prompto. Prompto looked at Noctis, wordlessly telling him that _their_ conversation wasn't over, either. While he was angry, while he was _furious_ , he was really just relieved that everyone had gotten out of this in one piece. His anger at Noctis never really lasted that long. They'd talk later. Maybe with Gladio backing Prompto up, Noctis would be more inclined to listen when Prompto told him to run away. Because Prompto would be damned if anyone or anything would _ever_ hurt Noctis while Prompto still drew breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm running on a new once a week schedule for each of my fics! Scourge will now update every Wednesday, friends!
> 
> ♥♥


	14. Horrors

It took considerably longer than Ignis would have liked for the villagers to clear away from the church. In fact, by the time they cleared away, it was time for Gladio to take another pill. Which, of course, meant that it was one more dose that Noctis missed, a little more time ticking off the clock for them to get him to Gralea and get that parasite the hell out of him. He had even _less_ time than Gladio had, and it worried Ignis far more than he was willing to admit.

Still, as the pair of them rappelled down the side of the church; Ignis using his hookshot and Gladio using a rappelling kit that he had in his backpack, Ignis found himself in an even greater hurry than before to get to the gondolas. Every second that they wasted, was a second that Noctis' parasite had a chance to incubate. As long as they got there before it completed its incubation, and as long as Noctis kept up with the dosage of his pills, then he'd be fine. They'd have time to take care of things before they got too desperate. However, the problem was that their route to the gondolas wasn't clear at all. One of the windows on the side of the church was busted, and as Ignis looked inside, he saw the normal trappings of an office. It was around where Drautos had come from when they'd encountered him inside, and it was empty.

The sound of the window shattering had easily been drowned with the cavalcade of villagers chanting as they filed their way into the church, but as Ignis looked and listened while he passed the window, he realized that it was probably Drautos. The man had busted through the window and run off to Astrals only knew where, and while Ignis had already been sure that it wouldn't be the last they'd see of him, he'd hoped that it would be longer than what it was shaping up to be. He probably shouldn't have. Most of the time, things in his life never took the easy route, after all.

Heaving a sigh, he glanced over to Gladio as his feet touched the ground and crackled against the glass that Drautos had left behind when he shattered the window. "I suspect," he murmured, his voice quiet enough not to attract attention from inside the building, "that this glass is from Drautos. His office window was broken."

Gladio nodded his head, looking up over his head at the window. "Yeah. I also think we're in for a rough go of it whichever way we decide to head to get to the gondola. Heard a couple people talking, and they said that they sent people to block off each route. I know we're capable of takin' out whoever stands in our path, but that doesn't mean it's gonna be a walk in the park." He sounded exasperated, maybe a little bit exhausted, and Ignis found himself wishing that they had a moment to rest. The only sleep that Ignis had gotten over the past few days had been interrupted, though it was worth it.

"We can handle it," Ignis answered. "While I would much rather it be a walk in the park, I don't suspect anything to be as long as we're here."

With a snorted laugh, Gladio nodded. "When is anything ever?" he asked. "You're right, though. And it's good to know that you've got my back. You _have_ got my back, right?" he asked, coiling up his rappelling rope and sliding it back into his pack. "'Cause that shit in there with Drautos was well acted. Like, real well acted."

Ignis didn't want to be offended. He was trying desperately _not_ to, even. Because Gladio genuinely had every right to be suspicious. Honestly, Ignis almost preferred it, as much as it was offensive. Still, the smile on his face when he looked at Gladio was a little bit tighter, a little bit thinner in the lips than it otherwise would have been. "I do have your back, yes. And I absolutely understand your uncertainty." He cringed at the tone of his own voice. He'd tried, but it was hard to keep the disappointment out of it.

Somehow, despite only having known him for a few hours, Gladio seemed to catch onto it. He frowned. "I wasn't tryin' to offend you or anything, Iggy. Sorry if I did. It's just... this whole spy bullshit..." he waved his hands back toward the church. "I dunno how you do it. First of all, it's gotta be lonely as hell." He zipped his pack, looking to Ignis like he was waiting for an answer.

The short answer, and the slightly depressing answer, was that it _was_ lonely. Ignis almost couldn't remember the last time, until the past few hours, he'd spoken to someone other than Pelna in a pleasant conversation. Did he really want to let Gladio know that? For the sake of honesty, he sucked up his pride and nodded. "Lonely, perhaps. But worthwhile..." he murmured.

Gladio's responding expression was sad. An odd kind of sadness, though, that wasn't _quite_ pity, but almost kind of was. "And dealing with the assholes? Like Drautos? And that Izunia guy you mentioned?"

Ignis tried to keep his expression from souring, but wasn't entirely successful. He shrugged a shoulder. "When it comes to them, it's a lot of swallowing my pride and learning from what I've observed in other Nifilian citizens. It's... less than ideal, and I don't like it at all," he explained, as he beckoned for Gladio to follow and started walking toward the gondolas. "But it's far better than compromising everything that I've been working for, for years now." How much better, he couldn't really say. If he failed, he got to go home, and it was almost embarrassing how much he wanted to go do that.

With a frown, Gladio nodded his head. "I think I understand. And you are way, way braver than I had you pegged in the beginning. I don't know if I'd be able to do it," he admitted.

"Some days are harder than others," Ignis confessed, thinking back to just a few days ago. "Like three days ago when I learned that my partner, the friend I've been working with since I moved out to Niflheim, was killed in a mansion outside of Altissia." Pelna's last radio call had been devastating. Ignis didn't really want to think about it right now, though. The wound was still fresh. "Things like that are job risks. You don't know what's going to happen to you at the end of each day."

Gladio frowned. "Your partner died three days ago?" he asked, his voice softer than Ignis remembered hearing it so far.

That, Ignis remembered, was exactly why he didn't like talking about things like this. One moment of discussion always led into more, which led down a vicious spiral. Still, it was difficult not to be honest with Gladio. He nodded a solemn note. "He didn't just die. He was murdered. I'm not sure how, but I'm fairly certain that Izunia managed to find out about his double agency. He traveled to the Altissian mansion to do some research on an old version of the Scourge parasite, one that they rejected because it turned people into husks—borderline zombies, really—and he told me that he was _truly_ going to gather evidence of Star's involvement to send back to Lucis." It had been the last conversation that they had face to face.

"Three days ago, he called me to tell me that one of the infected found their way into his room." After a brief pause, Ignis sighed. "Pelna may have been a very carefree man, but he was also a cautious one. He wouldn't have left his room open, and the people inflicted with older versions of the Scourge virus wouldn't have had enough brain power to open a door. He was bitten."

Arching an eyebrow, Gladio asked, "can the virus be transmitted through a bite? I thought-"

Ignis shook his head. "Not the new one, no. The old one, however, was far more primitively designed. Research into it was discontinued, and Izunia's plan was to wipe the mansion that Pelna was sent to off the face of Eos. I wouldn't be surprised if he's sent another agent in to do just that," he added with a sad sigh.

Gladio frowned. "So, your partner was bitten? Do you think that someone sent the person who bit him-"

"Don't call them people. They're not," Ignis insisted.

Blinking, Gladio nodded again. "Okay. Do you think that someone sent the thing that bit Pelna into the room to dispose of him? Because they were afraid of word getting out?" He scratched a hand through his hair as they walked.

Ignis nodded. "That's my suspicion. Also, it's part of what sparked me into action when it came to you. I saw Lucians in Ulwaat, and as much as I wanted to help you, I also saw you as an opportunity. An opportunity to help me put an end to Star," he explained. Astrals, that sounded horrible. It likely sounded, to Gladio, like Ignis was using him. That wasn't the intent at all, and he sincerely hoped that Gladio didn't think so; didn't hate him for it. "I... sincerely hope that doesn't sound like-"

A hand on Ignis' shoulder stopped him mid-sentence. He turned toward Gladio, to see the man looking at him with gentle eyes that belied his kindness and warmth. The kindness and warmth that Ignis had always known him to have. It was almost enough to make his heart flutter up and out of his chest. Almost. Not quite, though. He managed to keep it together, instead, smiling a nervous smile and trailing down from Gladio's eyes to where his hand rested on Ignis' shoulder.

"It doesn't," Gladio reassured him gently, before gently squeezing Ignis' shoulder. "It sounds like a mutually beneficial arrangement. More than mutually beneficial, really. It sounds like it benefits everyone. We get rid of Star, and we can stop this from happening to any other places."

Exactly. Ignis nodded an eager nod and turned to look out toward the horizon. In the distance, from where they stood on top of a hill, he could just barely make out the gondola's path. The tiniest piece of him wondered if Prompto, Aranea, and Noctis were faring any better in their travels. Not that they'd really run into _too_ much trouble yet, but the situation with Drautos was trouble enough on his own, honestly. He puffed out a sigh, then turned to Gladio with a weak and somewhat worried smile on his face.

"In order to do that, though, we need to get to the gondolas and meet up with the others," he finally said.

Gladio nodded, dropping his arm to his side. "And then get you the hell back to Lucis, because it sounds to me like you've been on your own for long enough."

There was a gentle rumble in his tone, something that Ignis usually associated with protectiveness. While Ignis was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, he couldn't deny that it was very nice to hear that tone of voice coming from Gladio. It was something that he'd wished for for years. For more than half a decade, since he first realized his feelings for Gladio. It was a little bit embarrassing, that it was capable of making his chest flutter, too. Ignis wasn't _really_ a terribly romantic man. He wasn't _opposed_ to romance by any stretch of the imagination. It was just something that he'd never really had the opportunity to pursue. For a long time, he'd been forced to keep people at arm's length. Thinking that the first person he'd let past that in years was the very man he'd harbored feelings for, for all this time? It seemed like it was overwhelming his heart.

Ignis nodded his head once. If that was proving anything, it was how correct Gladio was. Maybe he _had_ been alone for too long. "And from there, perhaps I will ask His Majesty not to send me on any more missions like this one." He paused and shook his head no. "Actually, I don't think I could ask that. At the very least, perhaps I will ask for a little time off." He punctuated it with a soft laugh as he turned to look at Gladio.

The way Gladio was grinning at him was... unfair to say the least. It was almost wolfish, and that fire was definitely the very thing that Ignis found so attractive about him. "Maybe you and me can go on a vacation together, huh? Seems unfair that we've been on the same side for so long and I'm only just now meeting you for the first time."

To say that Ignis was taken off guard was a tragic understatement. He simply stood there for a moment, regarding Gladio with wide eyes, before glancing down at the ground beneath his feet. "I hear that Galdin Quay is quite lovely around this time of year," he replied, an affirmative without promising too much.

Nodding a sage nod, Gladio turned his head back to look in front of them. "Yeah, Galdin's great. Plus there's places off the grid, too. Like camping places or resorts where it's just you and the wilderness. Always been fond of camping." He shrugged his head to the side, turning to glance at Ignis.

While Ignis wanted nothing more than to agree vehemently to time alone with Gladio on some grand camping adventure—and he did, he truly did, because it sounded like the very thing he'd dreamed about for ages—something in the distance caught his eye.

At first glance, the group of three villagers looked normal. As normal as these villagers _could_ look, anyway. They walked, in their torn clothing and eerily uniform step, toward Ignis and Gladio with a purpose. As much purpose as they could muster with the way they walked, anyway. Ignis instantly raised his crossbow and nocked an arrow, watching as Gladio pulled his shotgun as well. As usual, the weaponry in their face didn't seem to faze them in the slightest, didn't seem to slow them down at all. They still advanced, and the one on the right raised her hatchet like she wanted blood.

Of course, she wanted blood. They always wanted blood. They wouldn't get it this time, though. Usually, Ignis was hesitant to fire on these people, considering the fact that they _were_ people. People who, until Star had poisoned their water, had just been living their normal lives; lives much like his own was back in Insomnia.

Sometimes, though, as difficult as it was, he had no choice. Much like back in the village proper, if he didn't do something, either Ignis or Gladio would be hurt. More likely Ignis than Gladio this time, considering the fact that Izunia seemed to want Gladio for some sinister purpose, to turn him into some superweapon or something. With that in mind, and with a silently thought apology to the woman with the hatchet, Ignis fired. The bolt impacted with her head, and Ignis watched—it was hard not to flinch, but he managed—as she halted in her progress, but didn't immediately die. That was unsettling on its own, but more unsettling than that was the fact that she stood again, with the hatchet in her hand, and the very second that she rose to her feet, a terrible transformation began.

Out of her mouth, like something from a nightmare, came a giant insect-like monster. It squirmed like a giant worm, rattled like a cockroach and spewed disgusting slime like a slug, and Ignis instinctively backed up a step. He'd researched things like this, where people infected with the Scourge who the virus 'rejected' underwent horrible transformations. Some people lost arms, only to have them replaced moments later with scythe arms that could be used as weapons, or giant arms that unfolded like fans and could be used like shields. Ignis hadn't seen any firsthand before, but if they looked like this? He definitely wished that he could have gone a little longer without seeing one. Maybe never, truly.

Gladio, too, looked similarly distraught, but he managed to raise his shotgun and fire a blast at all three villagers as they advanced, knocking them back in a single shot. "What in the _hell_ is that?" he seethed, pointing at the woman, who was still getting back to her feet with the worm creature wriggling around angrily and spewing even more of that slug slime.

Shuddering, Ignis raised his crossbow again and fired another shot at the writhing mass. "It's... it's a transformation of the Scourge virus. If it rejects you, it can... it can do that." A third shot, and the writhing mass of insect-like monster that protruded from the woman's head exploded into a mass of chunks. Some of those chunks landed right at Ignis' feet, and it took all of the effort he could put forth not to fall to his knees and vomit.

Gladio fired again, and instead of something coming from the villager's head, this time, it was an arm. The middle villager's arm cracked, the sound echoing out into the empty street around them. The crack came with something of a metamorphosis. The skin completely shed, almost like a snake's skin, falling to the ground in a disgusting and bloody mess. Ignis looked back up at the man's arm, now nothing but muscle and tendons, and any words completely died on his lips. It only got worse when the muscles seemed to contort. Contort they did, though, slimming and solidifying into the shape of a giant worm. Different than the woman's head, but a worm all the same. This particular worm had a triad of mandibles, which closed when it thrust forward in an attempt to grab hold of prey.

Ignis stared, horrified, for a few more seconds. Gladio, too, looked similarly distraught. He managed to gather his mind first, though, and raised his shotgun to fire a round directly into the villager with the deformed arm. The third one, the one who didn't seem to have any of the odd deformities, lunged forward at Ignis, brandishing a kukri knife like a maniac. Ignis leaped back, narrowly missing being sliced in the chest, and thrust out with a fan-kick that sent the man back several feet and into their companion with the worm arm.

In the chaos, he turned to Gladio, and murmured, "fight or flight?"

"I would rather take care of 'em now," Gladio admitted. "Don't want 'em followin' us to... to where we're goin', do we?" he asked.

That was a good point, too. Ignis nodded his head, raising his crossbow and firing at the pair, who were still picking themselves up from the ground. The first bolt hit the man's worm arm, and he shouted out into the night, likely alerting anyone else in the area. Silence followed, fortunately, because Ignis half expected the scream to be something of a clarion call, beckoning everyone in the area to close in and attack. For now, they were in the clear as far as _that_ went, but Ignis didn't know how long it would last. Gladio followed up with a second blast from his shotgun, and barely managed to throw out a right hook at the man with no abnormalities when he lunged forward.

Ignis fired another crossbow bolt, this time hitting the man with the worm arm in right where his shoulder should have been. It seemed to either sever the arm, or render it temporarily useless, allowing Ignis a clear shot at the man's head. He loaded another bolt into his crossbow, and then fired again, the arrow penetrating clear through the man's head and sending him into a heap on the ground.

The last man stood, rushing at Ignis in steps that were far less steady than they had been before. The punch had very obviously rattled him, which was fortunate, because Gladio delivered a second punch while the man's attention was on Ignis, sending him several steps backward and them forcing him to trip over a fence and fall to the ground on the other side, either unconscious or dead.

With the scuffle seemingly completed, Gladio turned to Ignis with just jaw agape. "What... what the _fuck_?" he exclaimed.

Breathing heavily, Ignis opened his mouth to answer, but another echoing chorale of chants came from the church behind them, and Ignis realized that the villagers inside had likely heard the fight taking place. He cursed under his breath. "We have to find a place to hide. I will explain everything once we're safely hidden, but we-"

Gladio nodded. "There's gotta be someplace up ahead. If we lock the door behind us and keep quiet, we can hold out until they move on." He beckoned for Ignis to follow him, and then the pair of them took off in a half-sprint down the trail.

It took them far too long to find somewhere to hide. By the time they did, Ignis had genuinely started to worry that they wouldn't find anywhere before they got to the gondolas. Their hiding place ended up being less than ideal. It was a small fissure in a large cliffside that led up to the Ulwaat Mountains, and it really was quite cramped. Barely large enough for the pair of them to fit in. As it stood, they were just barely out of sight, but for both of them to _stay_ out of sight, they needed to stay pressed tightly together. Very tightly. The fissure didn't really offer much breathing room as it was, but with his back pressed against the wall and Gladio's pressed against the opposite wall, each breath that they took brought their chests very close together.

The whole situation was both titillating, and positively unfair.

Literally, every single breath brought the warmth of Gladio's chest right into Ignis' space. While Ignis wasn't really _afraid_ of being close to Gladio, it was also very nerve-wracking for the sole reason that Ignis wasn't sure he could keep his guard up for too long. Harboring feelings for a man for the better part of the past decade made it very difficult to ignore when they were close like they were right then.

All the same, he wrestled back any and all thoughts like that and lifted his head to meet Gladio's eye. Neither of them could really say much at the moment, because as far as they knew, the villagers were still looking for them out there, but in the darkness of the fissure, there wasn't much that really needed to be said. This whole situation was really just the pair of them running from bad situation to worse situation, hoping to any Astral that may have been listening that their asses came along for the ride. It was okay. They were working together, and that was what was important, because their specific skill sets seemed to be an odd compliment to one another's, but... right now... Ignis couldn't seem to keep his mind on the situation at hand.

Gladio was warm. Ignis had always imagined that he would be warm, but the parasite coursing its way through his veins made him all the warmer, to the point that warmth seemed to almost radiate from him in waves. His body heat was keeping Ignis warm as they stood between the rocks, and the position that they stood in had forced their legs into a tangled mess. Ignis had a thigh between both of Gladio's thighs, and it was... very difficult not to glance down. Just to see what it looked like.

Internally, Ignis chastised himself. He wasn't some hormonal teenager. They were here for a reason, and the reason was to make sure that Noctis—that both Noctis and _Gladio_ , now—didn't die. Was now _really_ the time to be focusing on how nice—how _very_ nice—it felt every time an inward breath brought Gladio's chest a little bit closer to his? Was now the time to think of how Ignis had wanted to be close to Gladio for what felt like forever?

Was now the time to think of how easy it would be to just reach across the space that separated them and just... kiss Gladio? And what about the way that Gladio was looking back at him, almost like every single thought on Ignis' mind was _definitely_ a two-way street? While Ignis wasn't a hormonal teenager, he definitely wasn't a virgin, either. He could _definitely_ recognize when he saw desire on someone's face. It was something he'd seen for years, every time Pelna looked at him and every single time Pelna tried to get him to fall into bed. The way Gladio's warm, brown eyes were almost half-lidded... it was desire. Wasn't it? Or was he just wishing it was?

Unfortunately, he didn't get much more chance to wonder, because after the long silence, Gladio's voice almost jumped him when the man whispered, "do you think we're in the clear now?"

Shameful as it was, the tiniest bit of Ignis wanted to say no. Just to keep Gladio close to him for a little bit longer. He didn't let that part win, though. Turning to glance out of the fissure and onto the moonlit path, Ignis dared himself to peer out. Moving a little bit, brushing his body tortuously against Gladio's tight muscles, Ignis pulled in a very sudden and very sharp breath which was drowned out by a faraway sabertooth bellowing into the night.

Ignis glanced to one end of the path, and then to the other, before nodding his head once. "I believe we're clear," he announced, before stepping out into the open. Suddenly, the night felt significantly colder.

"Shame," Gladio answered, his voice a little bit huskier than usual. "Can't say I minded bein' pressed against you like that."

The heat that had flooded Ignis' whole body inside the fissure seemed focused on his face—namely, his cheeks and his ears—at the moment, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yes, well..." he stammered, glancing down to the ground. "Neither did I." His answer surprised even him. Was... was he _flirting_? At a time like this, was Ignis _honestly_ allowing himself to flirt? If he was, it occurred to him that he was probably very bad at it.

Except, the grin on Gladio's face said that maybe he wasn't as bad as he thought. Gladio shrugged his head to the side. "So... hate to break that up and ask about... all this bullshit, but... what the hell was with the worm lookin' things that came out of those people's head and arm?" he asked.

Just as quickly as the flirtatious mood arose, it was squashed. That was likely for the best, though. Not only was Gladio a hundred thousand miles out of his league, but this was not the time nor the place, to give in to his feelings. Plus, given Gladio's involvement with everything now, it was probably for the best that he was made aware of everything. So, with a heavy breath inward that he released in a harsh and fast puff, he beckoned for Gladio to follow him.

"I'll explain on the way to the gondolas. Much of it is scientific, and it took me quite some a bit of research to even come close to understanding it myself, so it may take a bit of time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOYS. CAN YOU NOT FLIRT IN THE MIDDLE OF DEATHTOWN???


	15. Liability

Usually, when Prompto was mad at him, he said his piece and then it all blew over. For the past mile, as they headed to the next safe house that Cid set up on the way to the gondolas, Prompto hadn't said a word to him. Once his stomach wound had healed, he just went back into work mode, walking with an angry purpose several steps in front of Noctis. Every now and then, he'd cast Noctis a look that he immediately recognized as a mixture of anger and worry. Prompto was mad. Prompto was _really_ mad; like, 'madder than Noctis remembered seeing him' mad.

There wasn't a worse feeling in the world, as far as Noctis was concerned, than having Prompto mad at him. Especially given what they were currently going through. Aranea looked a little bit confused, probably because up until this point, they'd been filling the silences with normal and casual conversation, but after the confrontation with that Ulldor guy, there was nothing but silence.

Noctis honestly hated silence. Their footfalls in the dirt—and then the gravel when they got to the trail that led to the cabin—were echoing in his mind, and every time one seemed to echo a little bit louder to him, he felt himself jumping a little bit. Normally, that was when Prompto would make a joke, say something silly or remind Noctis of a funny memory to break the tension. It wasn't happening this time. 

Of course Prompto was mad. It made complete and total sense for him to be mad, especially since he'd _told_ Noctis not to try and help. It wasn't an easy instinct to ignore, though. If something had happened to Prompto—while Noctis knew that it was almost impossible for the guy to have killed him, that didn't mean that _other_ bad things couldn't happen—and he could have done something to stop it? He'd never have been able to forgive himself. How hard was that to understand?

Aranea pointed at a fork in the trail. "We wanna take the west path," she told them. "It's quicker, and we're way less likely to run into any more people, because the eastern one leads right past another little residential area. So, west path. It's an uphill climb, but I trust you two not to be complete and total wusses about that."

While Noctis managed a short laugh at that, Prompto didn't reply at all. Another surefire sign that he still wasn't feeling completely like himself. Noctis bit down on his lower lip, watching Prompto as he turned down the western path without another word. Aranea walked up beside Noctis, putting a hand on his shoulder and shaking it gently.

"Is Skinny okay? I don't know him like you do, so I don't know if this is normal or if he's like... in some kind of mood or something."

Noctis breathed a heavy sigh, looking ahead at where Prompto had created a slightly bigger gap between himself and Noctis and Aranea. "He's mad at me, I think. Because I didn't run. But I... I didn't want to leave him, you know? Like, yeah he can heal, but what if they took him away or something? Or hurt him in some other way? I don't wanna, you know..." A pause, while he tried to collect his thoughts, and then he glanced back at Aranea. "He wouldn't leave me. He had to know that I wouldn't wanna leave him, too, right?" he asked.

She shrugged a shoulder. "Like I said, I don't know him like you do. Hell, I don't really know him at all, Prince Charmless," she reminded him. "All I know is that I heard Ulldor say some pretty weird stuff to him. You heard the 'Patient Zero' part, right? What the hell is that supposed to mean? It seemed to, like... throw Skinny off and everything, too. So, whatever it was..."

"It probably wasn't good," Noctis completed, his eyes following Prompto's determined footsteps.

A few more seconds of silence, and Prompto let out an audibly frustrated sigh from ahead of them. "You know, you don't have to talk about me behind my back," he huffed. "For one, I can hear you. And for two? I'm not some fragile little wimp that's gonna break the second you ask me a question." His tone sounded very unlike Prompto. Not like he'd been possessed or something, but like he'd been so shaken by what had happened back in the woods that he was having a hard time dealing with it.

Noctis frowned. "Then why aren't you talking to me?" he asked, trying not to sound as pathetic and disappointed as he felt.

When Prompto turned, he saw the wall that his best friend had built shake a little bit. Just as quickly as it had shaken, though, it solidified again, and he shrugged his head to the side. "Didn't think that walking down a trail through the woods was the best place to talk, Noct. Remember what happened last time? We got ambushed by some psychopath and I got stabbed in the gut. Don't really wanna make a habit out of it." He turned his back and started walking again.

Even with his back turned, though, Noctis could see the slight difference in his posture that showed that he was still having a tough time. His shoulders slumped and his step wasn't as ferociously determined as it had been. Noctis could see his fists clenching at his sides, too. It was the slight posture change that made Noctis pick his pace up a little bit, settling into a quick jog. The effort that he had to put forth was kind of annoying, and an unfortunate side effect of not having the enhanced dexterity that Prompto had, so he couldn't move as quickly. Eventually, he managed to catch up.

"When has being in a bad place to talk ever stopped us before?" Noctis asked him, trying to keep the worry from his tone. "You're pissed about something, but it's more than that. You're worried about something, too. Can't really do anything about it if you don't tell me what it is." He placed a hand on Noctis' shoulder.

Prompto huffed a frustrated note, shook Noctis' hand off, and took a couple more steps forward. Finally, he stopped, tensing completely, then turned around to look at Noctis. "Yeah, I'm worried, but I'm _mostly_ pissed off," he explained, though his voice belied his words. When Prompto was mad, his voice was louder, he shouted a little bit more. The slight lilt of his tone right then was more worry than fury. "I mean, I told you _not_ to help me." Now, the tone of his voice was rising a little bit to match the frustration in his eyes. "I _told_ you that I could get out of there fine."

So, it was exactly what Noctis thought it was. With an exasperated sigh, Noctis rolled his eyes to the sky. "Like I could do that," he answered simply.

"You _should_ have!" Prompto answered, his voice echoing into the area around them just slightly. "I know you wanted to help me or whatever. I know you were worried about me. And that's... well, not _great_ , because if it was great, I probably wouldn't be this pissed. But when I tell you to run, you're supposed to _run_!" As he spoke, he took a step toward Noctis.

Huffing a laugh, Noctis shook his head. "I would never do that, though," he answered, taking a step toward Prompto to match. "I couldn't, okay? Not even if I wanted to!" If he ever had to leave Prompto behind somewhere, he figured that it would be like losing a piece of himself. So, he may as well have stayed behind, too.

A frustrated grunt, and Prompto took another step forward. "Well, why am I even your bodyguard, then?" he snapped. "What's the point of me even trying to look out for you if you're just gonna ignore me when I try and protect you?" His hands flew up in a dramatic, annoyed shrug.

Noctis narrowed his eyes. "Being my bodyguard doesn't mean that you're supposed to throw yourself in danger for me, Prom!" he hissed, taking another step forward.

"That's exactly what it means!" Prompto shouted in reply, taking a final step forward until they were right in one another's faces. "Bodyguard means that I guard your body. With my own if I have to. And I don't care what happens, okay? These... these _creepy asshole cultists_ aren't gonna get you!"

As Noctis looked up and met Prompto's eyes, he noticed exactly how _close_ Prompto was. So close that Noctis could make out every single constellation in his freckles. Freckle constellations may have been an embarrassing story to anyone else, but Noctis had been noticing them about Prompto for years. Once, during a trip to the beach in the dead of summer, Noctis had managed to connect the full shape of a moogle in Prompto's freckles. One wing had been shorter than the other, and the pom wasn't the size of a normal moogle's pom, but when he'd told Prompto about it, the pair had laughed at it for a good half an hour. The freckles on his face didn't really have many constellations in them, at least Noctis hadn't really had the chance to look for them yet, but they were still mesmerizing.

Even more mesmerizing, though, was the way his eyes glimmered in the moonlight. Prompto had the most amazing eyes that Noctis had ever seen. The brightest blue he'd ever witnessed in his life, and they were wide and brilliant. If Noctis didn't love them so much, he'd probably have been jealous. At the moment, they were making it difficult to stay _angry_ , though, let alone harbor any jealousy toward Prompto for them.

Prompto, for some reason, seemed to be looking at him in the same way he imagined that he was looking at Prompto. It was quiet but intense, and his eyes slipped down from staring into Noctis' to glance at his lips… almost like he was going to close the distance between them and kiss Noctis. That was insane, though. Sure, they'd come close to kissing before, but they'd never actually done it. There was the time when a classmate invited them to the same party their sophomore year of high school, and the spin a bottle game had ended with the pair of them matched up, but the classmate had told Prompto at the last second that he got to spin again—and Astrals, had it been torture watching Prompto kiss Sati Calos that night. Then there was the time when they'd almost kissed one another 'just for practice' and to get their first kiss out of the way, but talked themselves out of it. So many almosts, so many not quites, but never any kisses to show for it.

Noctis could have done it right then, easily. Maybe in the woods, in a town full of insane cultists, wasn't the most _romantic_ place to give in to what felt like a lifetime worth of feelings, but right now, it felt like it would have been worth it. After all, if they didn't get to Gladio soon, Noctis stood a good chance of dying. Did he want to die without giving that one last push and telling Prompto how he felt?

Before he got the chance—before _anything_ got the chance to happen, really—Aranea stepped up to them and shoved her way into the middle, separating them with a shoulder to each of their chests. "Hey," she hissed. "I _told_ you to save the flirting for when we're in the clear. Really don't wanna die just because you two couldn't keep your guard up. And I _really_ don't wanna have to be here and watch the two of you fuck."

Prompto jumped back, blinking dumbly at Aranea and shaking his head no. "We weren't! We weren't gonna do that!"

"No way!" Noctis agreed. "We just-"

With a roll of her eyes, Aranea tugged them both along to keep them moving with a hand on each of their shoulder holsters. "-have enough unresolved sexual tension to build a damn monument that defines what unresolved sexual tension is. You don't need to tell me, and I honestly don't wanna hear it. This is a life or death damn mission, not _Passions and Princes_ , so suck it up and let's get going to the safehouse." She released their holsters, and then turned around, walking backward a couple of steps as she kept talking.

"Oh. And how about you stop fighting, too? 'Cause I really don't think this is the place for that, either. Kiss and make up."

Noctis arched an eyebrow. "You just told us not to kiss, though," he pointed out.

That managed to raise a laugh out of Prompto, which made Noctis decide that it was a hundred percent worth it. "He's got you there," he agreed, casting a look over at Noctis and quirking a grin.

It was a familiar look. An apology without actually apologizing. How their fights usually ended. Someone said something that got the other to laugh, and then they went back to business as usual like the fight had never really happened. That, right there, was why Noctis Lucis Caelum was in love with Prompto Argentum. Why he always would be.

The exasperated sigh that Aranea gave in reply was endlessly amusing. "You two losers deserve each other," she groaned out, turning around and continuing down the path. "Now come with me or I'm leaving you behind."

When they finally moved to follow behind Aranea, Prompto gently nudged Noctis' shoulder with his own, then placed a hand on it. "Hey. I'm sorry, alright?" he murmured. "I'm still pissed that you didn't run. I get it, though." He smoothed a hand through his hair, shrugged his head to the side, and nodded. "If it was me in your shoes and you in mine, I wouldn't've run, either. I wouldn't care if I was indestructible or not. I'd just... want to protect you, too." He glanced down to the trail at their feet.

"I'd do anything to protect you," Noctis confessed, looking away from Prompto and down at the ground, too. "I know you're supposed to be the one who protects me, but..." He just shrugged, a simple shrug that was supposed to take place of an answer. Whether it did or not, he wasn't sure.

Before they really got a chance to say anything else about it, and before Noctis got the chance to properly apologize, a piercing shriek came from overhead. Noctis turned his head faster than his dizzy mind wanted him to, and it took him a couple of seconds to focus, but when he finally _did_ focus, he caught sight of a whole murder of crows, practically divebombing them from the late night sky. All three of them hit the ground, Aranea with an exclamation of "shit," and both Noctis and Prompto crawled as quickly as they could on the ground to catch up to her, where she lay several feet ahead of them.

She lifted her head and looked around in a panic. "We can't just lay here," she insisted.

Prompto sat up a little higher, taking a proper look around, and nodded his agreement with Aranea. "They're coming around for another one. We really can't just lay here. When I say so, the pair of you get up and make a run for it while I try to take them out, okay?" He turned to look at Noctis, a stern expression on his face when he added, "and I _mean_ it this time. You have to run. I'll be right behind you."

Noctis wanted to argue, but that whole situation with Prompto being mad at him wasn't something he wanted to repeat so soon after he'd just gotten over it. Slowly, hesitantly, he nodded his agreement and barely held back a sigh as he watched Prompto and waited for his signal. Prompto held his hand up, telling them to stay still for a few more seconds, and then a few more seconds after that, and then he closed his hand and waved them away.

"Go!" he whisper-shouted, shooing them off in the direction of the cabin that they were supposed to take their break in.

It took Noctis a few seconds to scramble to his feet, but he ran as fast as he could, off in the direction of the cabin. He followed Aranea's steps as fast as his feet would carry him, except he made it about a hundred yards before another painful tickle, just like before when they'd just rescued him, leaped into his throat. The first cough was subtle. It was just a little rumbling choke, which he covered with his hand and was barely audible. After that, though, the real trouble started. Three more coughs felt like the normal type that he always gave when he had a cold. After that, his throat started feeling raw, but the coughing didn't stop. It made him stumble over his feet and fall to his knees in the dirt. Three more coughs came from there, then two more after that, and his hand was covered in spatterings of blood again. Worse than before this time. His vision blurred, and he erred close to losing consciousness all over again, but he willed himself to stay awake.

To try and scramble to his feet. Try... but fail. His head was swimming too much, and the pain in his throat was almost blinding. He stayed on his hands and knees, struggling to catch his breath and pull it into his raw throat and burning lungs. Gasping, choking on nothing, he lurched on the ground for a couple of seconds. It was then that he felt Prompto's arm around his back, then Prompto's hand on his chest, helping him up to his knees and then to his feet.

Aranea came back, too, from the other way. Guilt leaped up from the pit of Noctis' stomach. Aranea was no safer than he was, especially since he could still hear the crows as they practically screeched behind the group; as they got closer and closer, and then further away. Prompto may have been able to heal, but he _really_ wasn't any safer, either. If he ended up getting the pair of them hurt, just because he couldn't keep up... wouldn't it just be safer for them to just leave him behind?

For the moment, he opted not to voice his concerns and just ran alongside Prompto and Aranea in the direction of Cid's safehouse. When Prompto's fingers threaded through his, the comfort he felt was actually tangible. It washed over him in a wave, and he turned his head, his eyes coming into focus and seeing the concern on his best friend's face. "I... I'm sorry... I..." His voice was raspy and haggard, almost like he'd been a lifelong smoker.

With a shake of his head, Prompto squeezed Noctis' fingers a little bit tighter. "Hey, don't, okay?" Before he continued, he turned to Aranea, commanded her to keep going, and then wrapped his arms tightly around Noctis, leaning him down toward the ground and then cowering over him.

The crows cawing got ever closer, and that was when Noctis realized what was going on. Prompto was leaning over him, shielding him from the crow attacks and taking the blows himself. If Noctis hadn't been feeling guilty before, that would have done it a hundred times over. Every time one of the crows scraped or hit Prompto, he flinched, but he didn't remove himself from where he lay protecting Noctis. His grip tightened slightly, enveloping Noctis in a little bit more of his protective aura. From a distance, and muffled by Prompto's arm and chest covering his ears, Noctis heard the sound of Aranea's rifle firing. After a few seconds later, he heard Aranea's voice, and then felt Prompto get up. The weight from his back was equal parts relief and worrisome.

"C'mon, Noct," Prompto offered as he helped Noctis to his feet. "Aranea took care of most of the birds, so we just have to make it to the safehouse. We're not far away, so..."

Noctis nodded, moving as quickly as his body would allow. The whole time they ran, his mind swirled into a depressing tornado of negativity. As long as this parasite was coursing through his system, he was nothing but a liability. Whether or not Prompto could be lastingly physically harmed, that had nothing to do with the fact that he could still be hurt. Every time that he was hurt while they were here, every _single_ time that something happened to him, it was Noctis' fault.

As much as Noctis really, _really_ didn't want to be one of the cultists, or whatever else they had planned for him, he wanted even _less_ to be the reason that Prompto and Aranea walked headlong into danger this whole time. He knew, of course, that it was Prompto's choice to take on the job as his bodyguard, but that didn't mean that knowing that Noctis was the reason that he threw himself out there like this was any easier. He found himself wondering if, maybe, it was too late for him already. If, every time things got dangerous he would end up coughing, slowing them down, and putting Prompto and Aranea in even more danger than before.

That thought kept him quiet through the whole run down the rest of the trail and into the safehouse. Aranea blocked one window with a bookshelf, and Noctis blocked the other by pulling down a large metal shutter over it. Prompto locked the door and barred it, then turned around and approached Noctis, placing a hand on his shoulder and breathing a deep breath.

"You okay?" he asked.

Rather than say anything that he'd just been thinking, Noctis just nodded his head. "Yeah. I... I just couldn't stop the coughing fit, and..." He glanced from Prompto to Aranea, then back to Prompto. "Thanks, by the way. For covering me. Being pecked to death by crows is not my idea of a good time."

Huffing a half-hearted note of laughter, Prompto nodded his agreement. "Will you be alright for a second by yourself?" he asked, rubbing his hand gently up and down Noctis' bicep, then placing his other hand on Noctis' cheek.

It was a little bit embarrassing, the way Noctis leaned into the touch to his face. He did, though, then turned his head over to look at Prompto and nod his answer. "Yeah. I'll be fine," he murmured. Maybe not a _complete_ truth, but not a lie, either. It wasn't like he was going to do anything stupid. Wasn't like he would run off on his own. Not yet, anyway. Maybe if things got any worse, he would. For now, though, things hadn't gotten _that_ bad.

Nodding, Prompto leaned his forehead against Noctis', meeting his eyes and then closing his own. "I'm gonna get Gladio on the radio, okay? See how far they are from the gondola, and then we'll wait for the crows to get bored, get the hell out of here, and then go get you those pills before this has a chance to get any worse." When he opened his eyes, there was obvious worry there. It wasn't panic or anything, but he was very clearly starting to realize how bad the situation was.

Before Prompto left, Noctis reached up and placed a hand gently on his neck. It was a light touch, loose and gentle, but it was enough to hold Prompto's attention for another couple of seconds. Neither of them said anything, but they didn't really have to. Their expressions said enough. Prompto's eyes had that tiny little narrowing that they always got when he was worried. His brow was furrowed just slightly, even as he explored Noctis' expression, and smoothed his thumb along Noctis' cheek. He stopped before he said or did anything else, standing up straight and using the hand he had on Noctis' shoulder to pull Noctis into a hug.

It was a simple hug. No different than any of the other hugs they'd ever shared. Maybe a little bit more clinging, a little bit more desperate, and Noctis replied in kind, squeezing Prompto with everything he had. Silently, in the back of his mind, he made a vow to his best friend that, if things got bad, before he felt himself getting close to the point that the cultists could control him, he'd run. He'd run away, try and find a way to Gralea on his own, before they tried to make him hurt Prompto somehow.

When Prompto released him from the hug, he met Noctis' eyes again, managing an attempt at a comforting smile. It was very tight-lipped, not honest at all, and very clearly _just barely_ hiding a tidal wave of worry. "I'll be right back. Hopefully, Gladio's alright, right?"

Noctis nodded, then watched as Prompto crossed the room and took his radio out. Hopefully, Gladio was alright. Hopefully, they could come up with a way to stop this stupid parasite before it got anymore control than it already had over him. Hopefully... everything would be okay.

Hopefully. But he wasn't counting on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANGST ANGST ANGST


	16. Heated

Crows. That was what Prompto had just told Gladio over the radio. They'd been attacked by crows, and since the Scourge virus was in the water, the crows were probably infected, too. Gladio found himself wondering if the infection went so far as to infect things like the grass or the trees. He guessed those were _mostly_ watered by the rain, but what about the animals that these people ate?

Again, he found himself grateful for the MREs and granola bars that he and Prompto had both packed in their backpacks, as well as the fact that they both had enough water to at least last them a couple of days. If what Prompto was telling him was true, too, the places that Ignis had told him about were safehouses, set out by an ally of King Regis. They had food and water and ammo, and suddenly, Gladio wanted to get to one of those. First, though... first, they needed to find Noct and the others at the gondolas. They weren't far, according to Ignis. A good thing, definitely, because Gladio was exhausted.

It probably wasn't fair for him to _be_ so exhausted, since he'd had such a long period of unconsciousness however long ago, but he couldn't help it. Everything since then had come at him at in a clusterfuck, and Gladio was just glad that he had Ignis with him to help him make sure that his ass came along for the ride. _And_ to explain shit that he didn't understand to him.

Like the worm things that had come out of those villagers' heads.

Apparently, that was a mutation of the Scourge virus. Ignis had explained that the virus came in a lot of different forms. Most of the time, the virus matched the type of worm-like creature that the parasite consisted of. It was gross. It was _really_ gross and scary as hell, but it made sense, too. There were other variants, according to Ignis, which adapted to the person they were injected into and gave them random superhuman abilities, as well as forcing them into the mind control that the villagers seemed to be under. Those variants were, apparently, only given to select test subjects, and Ignis explained that Gladio was one of those subjects. It was a little bit worrisome—a _lot_ worrisome—that Gladio's first thought was Prompto. Prompto wasn't susceptible to any mind control, it seemed, but... he had superhuman abilities. A lot of them.

Was that what had happened to him?

He breathed a puff of breath through his nose and turned to look at Ignis as they approached the cliffside. The chasm between the cliff and another cliff on the other side that led them to the guard house was very deep. So deep that Gladio couldn't even see the bottom. Suddenly, he found himself sincerely hoping that the gondola was in better condition than anything else in the town seemed to be. He doubted it, but... he hoped.

They were about a mile out from it, and it was a straight shot down the cliffside form where they were currently walking, so as long as they weren't attacked, Gladio had to figure that they'd be fine. He turned to Ignis, who looked more than a little bit exhausted, and then reached down to his pocket to gather the map and look it over. "So, there's a couple of those safe houses that Prompto was tellin' me about on the other side. It looks like one of 'em's before the guard house. Once we get Noct those pills? I think it'd be a good idea for us to try and get a good night's sleep."

Ignis looked like part of him wanted to protest. The rest of him, though, looked exhausted, and like he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep for a month. "I'm torn," he confessed. "While I would very much like to sleep, the longer we take to get to the guard house, the more time Drautos has to grow all the more suspicious of us..." He glanced at the other side of the chasm, and then back toward Gladio.

"I get you. Believe me. But I don't think we'll be any good against him if we're dead tired. Do you?" Gladio asked. "When _I'm_ tired, I make mistakes. I dunno about you, but I'd rather not make a mistake in front of a dude who already probably wants me dead."

Wanted Ignis dead was more appropriate. It was mostly to protect Ignis from that, whether his new friend realized it or not. Whether or not Drautos trusted him didn't matter. It was pretty clear that he was looking for a reason to kill Ignis.

To be completely honest, Gladio wasn't really sure where this protective instinct was coming from in regard to Ignis. Ignis had shown that he was more than capable of looking out for himself. Looking out for himself _and_ looking out for Gladio at the same time. So, why did he feel the need to protect him like this? Well, partially because it was just what he did. He looked out for people. The people he cared about. It was too early for him to _really_ put Ignis up on that pedestal with Noctis and Prompto, but he couldn't really help it. Everything about this guy was magnetic.

He was interesting, smart, clever... and if Gladio wasn't reading too much into things, there was at least a _little_ bit of return attraction. When they'd been in that rock fissure together, pressed up close, it was pretty clear that there was _something_ going on between them. Was this really the time to think about stuff like that, though?

"Gladio?" Ignis asked, grabbing his attention like he'd actually reached out and taken a fistful of it from the air around Gladio's head.

When he snapped his head toward Ignis, he saw the man watching him closely, waiting for an answer to a question he'd asked or something. Gladio cleared his throat and chuckled a nervous note, scratching a hand through his hair awkwardly and turning to look at Ignis again. "Sorry," he murmured with a soft chuckle. "I was, uh... a little bit lost in my own head. Were you talkin' to me?"

Ignis nodded his head. "I was asking how you were feeling. You haven't had any coughing fits, nor have you lost consciousness since I've been with you. Are the pills having the desired effect?" he asked.

Even as Ignis spoke, he'd stepped in front of Gladio, halting him in his path and tugging one leather glove from his hand. The gloveless hand went to Gladio's forehead and felt his temperature. "You're burning up, but I suppose that is to be expected, since your general body temperature is higher than usual." He dropped one hand to Gladio's neck and pressed two fingers against a pressure point, feeling around for his pulse. "Your pulse feels normal. Your heartbeat is as strong as it should be. No sweating..." Taking one of Gladio's hands, he pressed his fingertips against the wrist and felt around there for a pulse as well.

"Everything normal?" Gladio asked, looking down at him with a little grin on his face.

Ignis turned his face back, and Gladio was almost knocked completely breathless by the sight of his eyes. Honestly, eyes like that weren't _fair_. Bright green and shimmering like emeralds, and looking at Gladio curiously. The expression changed to slight sheepishness, and he raked his teeth over his lip, releasing Gladio's hand. "Apologies if I overstepped some kind of boundary," he murmured.

No. Definitely not. Gladio shook his head in response as he reached out, taking Ignis' hand in his and placing it on his own chest. "Here. Gotta check this way too, right?" he asked with a wry grin.

It was hard to ignore the light dusting of red that seemed to breeze across Ignis' face right then. "Yes, I... I suppose that would be wise," he murmured, glancing at his hand as he brushed his hand along Gladio's chest, letting it rest over his heart. "It's picked up just slightly."

"Ain't from the parasite, though," Gladio murmured in response with a soft grin on his face.

It wasn't often when Gladio read situations wrong. At least situations like this. Sometimes, when they were talking, he caught sight of Ignis' eyes as they roamed over his body. It wasn't like it was uncommon. Gladio's body was trained for years; he was in peak condition. Partially because he had to be, in order to be an effective bodyguard. Also, though, because he wanted to be. Because he wanted to attract attention. Everyone, to a degree, wanted to attract attention, but attention from a man like Ignis—a man who was as sharp as he was sexy—was a bonus.

The way Ignis was looking at him right then told him that he _wasn't_ reading the situation wrong. Ignis' eyes roamed along the muscles of Gladio's chest, then he eyed his fingers, and it was more than a little bit obvious to Gladio that Ignis was interested. At least in a physical way. That was fine, because Gladio was definitely interested in Ignis in a physical way, too. There was more than that, though, too. Intellect and kindness, kindness that shouldn't have _existed_ because it was forced into the background by a lifetime of loneliness. It was incredible, honestly, that Ignis had retained as much of that kindness—of that sharp conversationalism—as he had, when he'd only really spoken to one person in a positive way over the past two years.

And really, it just made Gladio all the more interested.

Ignis breathed a soft and short laugh. "Indeed," he replied, raising his eyes again to meet Gladio's. "There must be something in the air, then, because it seems as though my pulse has quickened as well." He dropped his hand back to his side and moved to back out of Gladio's space.

As much as Gladio thought it was a bad idea, he couldn't stop himself from reaching a hand up and putting it on the small of Ignis' back. "Wonder if there's anything we can do about it..." he muttered, tugging Ignis closer.

Man, Ignis hadn't been joking. Ignis' heart pounded against Gladio's chest, a rhythm a little bit faster than his own, and he watched as Ignis' eyes trailed up from Gladio's chest, to his neck, to his lips, and then to his eyes. "I... are you certain that this is the best time? I mean, we have to-"

"I know," Gladio answered with a soft chuckle. "Worst idea ever, probably. But... you're interested in me, aren't you?"

Ignis laughed a note that was just as much a shaky inward breath as it was a laugh. "More than you could possibly know," he answered, though his tone was a little bit sheepish when he said it. It was almost like it was a confession more than an answer to the question.

And it had definitely piqued Gladio's interest. He loosened his grip, but didn't release it entirely, letting his arm hang loosely around the small of Ignis' back. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, an eyebrow arched in curiosity.

Sighing, Ignis tensed and pushed back from the embrace. "I will tell you everything as we walk. Is that okay? And then after that, if you still feel like kissing me? Well..." He paused, laughed a soft and breathy note, before glancing up to meet Gladio's eyes. "You are absolutely more than welcome to." Alongside that came a deepening of the red in his cheeks.

Gladio's instincts immediately brought his mind to the worst possible place. What if he was wrong to trust Ignis? What if this was the moment when Ignis confessed that he actually _was_ an ally of Star, and he was just playing Gladio all along? Still, even as he was thinking each of those things, his mind dismissed them as impossible. Gladio didn't really know him all too well, no, but he had a hard time imagining Ignis as the type of person who willingly put himself in the middle of a group like Star. So, he stopped himself from going any further down the rabbit hole that was that thought process and looked at Ignis, waiting for him to start explaining.

The pair of them started walking, and Ignis sighed. "You see, before I took on this Star job," he murmured, "I had never really left Insomnia for more than a couple of weeks at a time. I was always by myself, because my occupation never really allowed me to get close to anyone, but that didn't mean..." He paused, clearing his throat and sighing, nervously glancing at his shoes.

"Didn't mean what?" Gladio asked.

Again, Ignis sighed. "That didn't mean that I wasn't interested in talking to people," he confessed. "I would see all of these people in passing every day, and not really be able to allow them into my life, but that wasn't because the desire wasn't there. It was because... I couldn't."

Whatever Gladio had been expecting the confession to be, this was... well, it still wasn't _over_ , so maybe it could still go in the direction that he expected it to. The start, though, wasn't what he expected it to be at all. He hadn't expected Ignis to nervously stare at the ground while talking about how lonely he'd been back in Insomnia, and he certainly hadn't expected the confession he'd made to _this_ point to have his cheeks dusting ever redder. They were, though. Ignis stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets, glancing briefly over at Gladio, before he turned to look ahead of them and sighed.

"I learned things about people. I learned about Prompto's condition, and how it bothered him so much when he was younger. I learned about Noctis' struggles with depression and how he really doesn't wish to take the throne. I learned about Noctis' aversion to any vegetable and the fact that Prompto loves anything with curry in it. I learned about your fitness routine, and how when you are in a hurry, your dietary habits consist solely of Cup Noodles and sports drinks." The smile on Ignis' face was fond. "Over time, I came to see you as my family. A family that I couldn't speak to, without putting you in harm's way, but a family that I cared about all the same. One that I wished to protect."

Ignis paused for a second, turning his eyes to glance at Gladio as he continued. "And when I looked at you... I saw this incredibly intelligent man with excellent critical thinking skills and a love for reading. Someone who everyone always underestimated because he doesn't _appear_ to be the intelligent type, but could likely run circles around everyone he spoke to in an intellectual conversation if he had to." Another pause, and he breathed in a deep and heavy breath; one that visibly inflated his chest.

Glancing out at the area in front of them, Ignis continued. "I grew fond of you. Quite fond, actually, in a way that I never expected to. In a way that I never _should_ have, because I knew that, logically, I could never speak to you." His tone was somber, but he kept talking. "I watched you a lot. I realize that it sounds unhealthy, and very creepy, but I did. I watched you every chance that I got, as you interacted with your friends and your sister, as you did your job, but became like brothers with Noctis and Prompto over time. As you grew into the man you are. Over time, the fondness grew."

"That, in an equal amount to anything else, was what spurred me into action when I saw you and Prompto making your way through the village earlier today." Green eyes rose from the ground again, turning to look at Gladio with a nervous glint in them. "Because the two of you are people that I care a great deal for. Some of the only people in the world that I consider my family. And I wouldn't have been able to deal with it if anything happened to you."

Swallowing nervously, he glanced back out in front of them again. "And when you called me from the other side of the lake, needing my assistance, I would have done whatever I had to in order to get to you. I likely would have swam the lake myself, if the need arose," he murmured, huffing a humorless laugh. "So, if you were to kiss me, if somehow, you're still interested in whatever almost happened back there? You should know that it would not be just a kiss to me." He shook his head. "It would be a kiss with someone I've wanted to kiss for the better part of my adult years. I am absolutely willing. In fact, there isn't much in the world that I desire more. I just thought you should know the truth first." When he finally finished speaking, he looked down at the grass beneath his feet as he walked.

Gladio wanted to speak. He wanted to answer. For a time, though, he could barely even collect his thoughts. Ignis had been watching Gladio from a distance for how long? He hadn't said, other than calling it 'the better part of his adult years.' Gladio didn't even know how old he was, but he _did_ know that they were around the same age. Ignis thought of them as a family, but he couldn't speak to them, because of some safety thing. Because he was a secret agent, or a spy, or something, he was forced to be lonely; to live the rest of his life on the outside of what he wanted. It was... terrible. It was sad.

It was sad because from the very little that Gladio knew about him, it seemed like he deserved much more than that. It was sad because he put so much of himself out there to defend Gladio and Prompto, to rescue Noctis—hell, to help _all of Eos_ free themselves from Star and their Scourge, really—and he wasn't allowed to get anything in return.

That was finally what resonated with Gladio. Ignis was a brave man. A hero. A lonely hero, and apparently one who had wanted to be with Gladio for years. Maybe that was why Gladio felt so connected to him already, because he _sensed_ those feelings. Because he could feel the intent behind everything that Ignis did. There was still a tiny voice in the back of his head, telling him that maybe it wasn't true. Maybe it was all smoke and mirrors and a way to get Gladio to trust him all the more. He silenced the voice easily, though, with the awareness of the fact that it would have been easy for Ignis to just take the chance, cement his loyalty by kissing him a couple of moments ago, and be done with it.

Hell, he hadn't even needed to give Gladio the suppressant pills to begin with, so that was another tally mark in his favor. With that in mind, Gladio jogged forward a couple of steps to get in front of Ignis, turned, and stopped him with a hand on each of his shoulders.

"How long, exactly?" Gladio asked, bringing a hand up and placing it on Ignis' cheek. It was almost comical, the way Gladio's hand completely covered Ignis' face from the temple to the chin, but at the same time, it was nice. "How long have you felt this way? I mean... how long have you been, you know, watching us? Wanting to talk to us?" But not allowed because of some asinine spy code or whatever. King Regis wouldn't have forced him to abide by that; that was probably someone else.

Ignis shrugged his head to the side, his cheeks heating up. Gladio could feel the temperature difference beneath his hand. "At least five years," he murmured. "I've been training since high school. When General Amicitia—when your father—chose me to be in the new secret agency program, I was still in high school. They took me out and while I continued my education on my own, I was educated on the inner machinations of-"

With wide eyes, Gladio cut him off. "Wait. My dad? He hired you."

It was _definitely_ funny, in a way that wasn't funny at all. Gladio's dad knew Ignis, but Gladio had never met him. It was horrible. He huffed a humorless laugh when Ignis responded with a nod, and then placed his other hand on Ignis' shoulder. "Tell me something, Iggy," he muttered, stepping forward and closing the distance between them again. He pressed their chests together, to the point that he could feel Ignis' heart beating beneath his skin again. "Can I give you the parasite by kissing you?"

Ignis' eyes widened, and he blinked a few times, trying to collect his thoughts. "I... no. My cure immunized me. And even without that, it can't be transferred through saliva. It's in your bloodstream right now, so the only way I would be able to get it would be if you bled into an open w-"

Before he could finish that sentence, Gladio leaned forward and captured Ignis' lips with his own. For a second, Ignis tensed against him, but after a couple of seconds, he relaxed and leaned his body eagerly against Gladio's. Gladio slid his hand from Ignis' cheek, moving it around his head to cradle the back, and then moved the other hand down to come to rest on the small of Ignis' back again, pulling him slightly closer. Gladio had kissed a few men before. His fair share, at least. He wasn't _against_ casual hook ups, as much as he liked an emotional connection with someone, too. This was emotional connection, but it was something else, too.

The skin on Ignis' face felt cool. Not cold, but just a little bit cooler than Gladio's own. The virus' effect, maybe, but it still felt nice. The way he leaned against Gladio a little heavier, following when Gladio pulled him a little further to kiss him a little bit harder, was definitely welcome. Gladio pulled back a little, opening his eyes and examining Ignis' face when the kiss broke. He looked equal parts satisfied and not. Pretty much the same way Gladio was feeling at the moment. Satisfied, because hell was that a damn good kiss. Not, though, because it wasn't enough.

With that in mind, Gladio leaned in again and kissed Ignis a little bit harder. One of Ignis' hands found its way up to Gladio's shirt, grabbing hold of the fabric and clutching it tightly in his hand. The other arm raised to wrap loosely around Gladio's neck, and that was the moment when Gladio realized that they were probably in a little bit too deep.

He wasn't really thinking with his upstairs brain at the moment, though, and because of that, he opened his mouth, capturing Ignis' lower lip between his two and tugging just slightly. When Ignis opened his mouth, brushing his tongue gently against Gladio's... well, for one, it was a hell of a rush. Kissing in the middle of chaos, with someone who definitely liked him at least a little bit. For two, it felt _really_ good. Like his veins had been lit on fire. It was probably funny, in a way that wasn't really funny at all, for him to be thinking that. His body temperature was unnaturally high at the moment, after all. It felt higher than even _that_ , though, and this was a pleasant heat, as opposed to the one that had him feeling squirmy and sick up until then.

Ignis smelled like coffee and cleanliness, though that was also mixed in with a little bit of natural musk at the moment, with the exertion they'd been through over the past few hours. It was still nice. Gladio wasn't opposed to the smell of sweat. Especially not when it came to situations like this.

The hand that was pressed against the small of Ignis' back pulled him flush against Gladio's body, and he felt a wanton sense of victory when Ignis pressed his hips forward just slightly, and he could feel the outline of... something... pressing against him. He smirked wryly, then murmured, "hot and bothered?" against Ignis' lips in a throaty voice.

"I'm not the only one," Ignis pointed out in return, amusement very clear in his voice.

Gladio laughed a little bit. "Yeah, you ain't kiddin,'" he mused, lowering his hand just a little bit to place it on Ignis' ass and hold him in place a little bit. "Think this is a stupid idea?"

A laugh was his only response at first, but then Ignis answered aloud. "Probably," he whispered. "Definitely. Can't really bring myself to care at the moment, though. Funny how that works when you blind someone's logical mind with... you." That was followed with a grin.

That earned a throaty laugh from Gladio. "Right back at you, Iggy," he murmured, moving his lips down to come into contact with Ignis' neck. More of that same pleasant smell; coffee and soap, mixed with a scent that was very obviously Ignis' own Astral-granted aroma, flooded Gladio's senses, and completely drowned out his logic.

They were in the middle of the Gods damned woods, which was flooded with crazed villagers and murderous crows, apparently. This was a _horrible_ idea for those, plus a dozen more, reasons. At the moment, though, the part of his brain that realized that wasn't in charge. Ignis, who to this point had seemed like an incredibly logical man—a man who always thought about his actions before just doing them—was having a difficult time. Gladio moved the hand that had been resting on Ignis' cheek down, letting it come to rest on Ignis' other ass cheek, pulling him forward and gliding his hips against Gladio's own.

"That's... not fair at all," Ignis murmured, holding the fistful of Gladio's shirt a little bit tighter. The vibrations of his voice making its way up through his throat felt nice against Gladio's lips. That was about all he got from that comment.

Gladio laughed softly against his neck. "Neither's you wearing that shirt," he muttered, repeating the motion again and rocking his hips to meet Ignis', too.

Then came the most surprising thing in the whole situation. With a soft, low rumble of a chuckle, Ignis placed a hand on Gladio's chin, lifting his head so that their eyes were locked. "Well, that could be attended to, if you so choose," he offered in a hushed tone, before leaning his head in and capturing Gladio's lips with his own again.

Honestly, Gladio wasn't sure what was driving him crazier, the way Ignis let out a quiet hum against his lips or the way he brought his own hand down to undo the top button on his shirt, revealing a new patch of skin to Gladio. Rather than move his hands from Ignis' ass, though, he decided to explore that skin with his lips, craning his head down just slightly to press a slow, lazy, open-mouthed kiss to the flesh. An open-mouthed kiss that ended with a slight nibble, which caused an audible hitch in Ignis' breath. Well, alright then. That was definitely hot.

Gladio moved his hands down, placing them on Ignis' thighs and urging him to jump into Gladio's grasp. "Let me pick you up," he muttered against Ignis' collarbone.

Much to his surprise, Ignis agreed, jumping just slightly and hooking his legs around Gladio's waist. Full of surprises. Full of... really fucking hot surprises, for that matter. Not only was that advantageous, because it gave Gladio complete and total control of the way Ignis' hips rocked against his own, but it also placed his collarbone right in perfect kiss position. He backed them up a couple of steps, until Ignis back was pressed against a nearby tree, and then rocked his own hips again, pressing them tight against Ignis'. Now that Ignis was pinned, it afforded Gladio the chance to unbutton another couple of buttons on his shirt. As the new skin revealed itself, Ignis leaned his head back, breathing soft but heavy into the air over his head while his hands slid beneath the hem of Gladio's shirt.

But that was when it happened. Like a horribly rude beacon, the sound of a cell phone's ringtone caught his attention, jumping him, causing him to stop pulling up at the hem of Ignis' shirt. Ignis groaned for a whole different reason this time, then dropped his hands from where they were roving; exploring along Gladio's lower back.

"Can't you ignore it?" Gladio murmured, sounding every bit the part of the petulant child.

Ignis huffed a gentle laugh. "Would that I could. It's Izunia. If we wish to keep with this charade, then I need to answer it," he murmured as Gladio lowered him back to the ground.

With a low sigh, Gladio nodded. "Alright. But when we find one of those safehouses..." He quirked a little grin.

That elicited a soft laugh from Ignis. "You won't hear me complain," he answered, pulling in a slow breath before he answered the phone.

Gladio watched from a distance as Ignis unlocked his phone, and he was barely able to make out the visage of a man on the screen. A video call? Weird, but also useful, in a way. Gladio wished that he could keep in touch with Prompto that way. The man's hair was red and feathered, and he had red eyes, almost like the man in the black cloak back on the stained glass window and the murals at the church. That was definitely alarming, in and of itself, but the way he spoke to Ignis was also pretty nerve-wracking. The man started off the call by berating Ignis for not answering faster; for not picking up as soon as his phone rang, no matter where he was, and it took all Gladio had inside him not to storm up to where Ignis stood, take the phone from his hand, and throw it down into the chasm.

As it stood, he stepped a little bit closer to get a better view. From this angle, the man looked... how did he even describe it, honestly? The man looked slimy. Like a snake or a slug, with a smile that could crack a mirror. It was creepy, terrifying, nerve-wracking, and Gladio wasn't sure how Ignis was managing to stay level through it all. He wasn't sure at _all_ how he wasn't getting furious. He wasn't, though. Because he was impressive. Amazing.

"You look rather disheveled, Scientia. Is it common for you to wander around the village with your shirt open?" The man's expression went smug.

With a level tone, like he'd flipped the 'dealing with people he doesn't like' switch back on, Ignis murmured, "it is no business of yours, Izunia. What is the purpose for this call?"

Izunia shrugged his lip and scanned what he could see of Ignis. "I would dare say I caught you in the midst of something tawdry," he cooed. "I understand that I told you to bring Amicitia along to become a servant, but I wasn't aware this was how you treated servants, Scientia. Perhaps I have misjudged you."

Even from behind Ignis, Gladio could see his posture go rigid as tension overtook his body. "Enough, Izunia," he snapped.

"Who are you to tell me what to do, Scientia? You work for me, not the other way around. I believe you owe me an apology," Izunia muttered, eyeing Ignis expectantly as he turned his head and glanced in Gladio's direction. Was he in view? He sidestepped, getting out of frame and then turning his attention back to the screen. He couldn't see as well from here, but he could still see a little bit.

In another deadpan tone, Ignis did as he was asked. "Yes sir. My apologies. Now, what is the purpose of this call?"

Huffing a dramatic sigh, Izunia explained, "Drautos has informed me that you managed to get Amicitia to work with us willingly. This is fortuitous indeed, as it works well with my new plan. Ulldor has failed to apprehend the wayward Prince. I have Drautos on the case at the moment, so I would like for you to guide them to the guard house. Drautos is there, and while he has Patient Zero distracted, I would like you to incapacitate the Prince and bring him back to me. Are we clear?" The question wasn't really a question; it was more of an order.

Gladio's brow furrowed. Patient Zero. He could only assume that to be Prompto. He listened as Ignis tentatively agreed to the plan, before hanging the call up and holding his phone a little tighter in his hand. Almost tightly enough to crush it.

"We must warn the others," Ignis explained, tugging his glove back onto his hand.

As Ignis buttoned his shirt, Gladio nodded, and the pair of them rushed as quickly as they could to get to the gondolas to warn Prompto, Noctis, and Aranea what was on the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to state, for the record, that this is about 0% how I expected this chapter to go.
> 
> They just... wanted to make bad decisions. Or good decisions. You tell me... XD


	17. Short-Lived

To say that Prompto was relieved when he saw a familiar silhouette on the horizon as they approached the gondolas was a tragic understatement. The closer they got, the more relieved he was. And the more confused, for that matter. Next to Gladio's massive silhouette was another tall figure, this one a lot thinner but equally as well-armed as Gladio was. The second person followed behind Gladio, fishing through his pack for something as Gladio broke into a jog and stopped in front of them. Immediately, Gladio wrapped the pair of them in a crushing hug, and Prompto couldn't find it in himself to complain, even a little.

Over Gladio's shoulder, Prompto watched as Aranea strode up to the second man; the one in a red shirt with black suspenders, and poked him in the chest. "You are _so_ lucky I'm not doubling my rates, Scientia," she snapped, rolling her eyes in exasperation and crossing her arms at her chest. "When you hired me, I _never_ suspected that the kids would be worse than a pair of lovesick teenagers."

"We're not lovesick teenagers!" Prompto and Noctis answered, practically in unison, each over one of Gladio's shoulders.

The man in red just laughed softly. "I would ask if you had any trouble, but it seems I have my answer," he teased, smirking just slightly. "If things continue to be bothersome like this, I've no problem paying you double, Aranea."

Aranea just shook her head no, though, and then glanced over at Prompto and Noctis. "Nah, don't worry about it. Hopeless and dumb as they are, they're pretty okay kids. I'd rather help 'em out than let these fuckin' freaks get 'em. We'll just, y'know, put the extra cost of what I'm not charging you on Amicitia's tab when we get back to Insomnia. That should _just about_ make us even for all the wing-woman drinks I've bought him over the years." Her tone was teasing.

Both Gladio and the man in the red shirt went quiet, and over Gladio's shoulder, he saw Red Shirt look at the ground a little bit sheepishly. Aranea arched an eyebrow and grinned. "You know what? If that smirk means what I think it means? Since I had the mental wherewithal to choose Thing One and Thing Two here and let you chase after Amicitia? Make that _double_ the drinks. You both owe me one here..." she smirked.

Prompto was curious, but before he had a chance to ask, Gladio recovered from his awkward glancing down at the ground and laughed as he released them from the hug. "Shut it, Highwind. Glad you guys are all okay, though. Even Highwind and her big mouth," he smirked, squeezing each of their shoulders just slightly. "And that you're still a pair of oblivious idiots. For more than one reason, this time. Some things'll never change, no matter what creepy cultist town the job sends us to, huh, Prom?" His tone was teasing, and he turned to look at Noctis.

More than one reason? Prompto arched an eyebrow and tried to reason together what Gladio meant by that. He was assuming that it at _least_ had something to do with the fact that Gladio always teased the pair of them about how they should just 'fuck and get it over with,' but... what more could there possibly be?

Noctis looked annoyed, but also embarrassed, as he shook his head adamantly. "Okay. I'm glad to see you and everything, Big Guy? But... do us all a favor and shut the hell up." The comment was punctuated with a gentle cough, poorly disguised with a chuckle. Nothing like the ones that he'd given earlier, but still enough to worry Prompto, and make him rush up to Noctis' side and place a hand on his arm.

Red Shirt brushed past them, stopping in front of Noctis and offering a small bottle of pills out to him. "Here," he offered. "These are the same pills that I gave to Gladio. They will suppress the growth of the parasite, and as long as you take two of them every two hours, it shouldn't have the opportunity to grow any more until we can get you to Gralea and get rid of it." There was a kind smile on his face, one that put forth an instant aura of trust and made Prompto feel a little bit better about letting Noctis take pills from a stranger. Still felt weird, but it felt better coming from someone who seemed so kind.

It seemed like Noctis recognized him, as he looked up from the pill bottle and examined the man's face. "Scientia, right?" he asked, a tiny smile crossing his face. "You're one of my dad's people. I see you around the Citadel sometimes."

"I... yes, your highness-"

Noctis made the same face he made any time someone called him highness. A cringe, followed by a curl of his upper lip and then a shake of his head. "Oh Gods, no. Not highness, or Prince Noctis, or anything like that, okay? Noctis, or Noct, or... anything like that. I even hate it when press people call me by my title, so..." With a soft smile, he glanced down at the pill bottle and then back up at Scientia.

Scientia laughed a soft and amused note, then nodded his head. "In which case, I will request that all of you call me Ignis. If you do not mind, that is. If we're to work together to get out of this mess and help you and Gladio expel the parasite from your bodies, it would behoove us to speak as allies, would it not?" Despite the formal and flowery talk, his expression was cordial and friendly, and his smile easy and warm as he turned to look from Noctis to Prompto.

With a nod and a smile, Prompto extended a hand for Ignis to shake. "Prompto Argentum. You can call me Prompto, though."

The look on Ignis' face suggested that, maybe, he already knew that. It was weird. Really weird, but again, it was also hard not to trust him. Especially since he'd just given Noctis pills that could keep him from dying. Prompto watched as Noctis popped the top to the bottle, took out a pair of pills, and placed them on his tongue. He took out the bottle of water that he'd gathered from the safehouse not too long ago and downed them, glancing down at himself.

"I don't feel any different. Will I feel different?"

Ignis shook his head no and dropped Prompto's hand to go and look Noctis over again. He placed a hand on Noctis' wrist, taking his pulse. "Slightly labored," he confessed. "Not so much that it's instantly worrisome, but it isn't an average pulse. Your skin is slightly more pallid than Gladio's, and your eyes slightly more glazed. Have you been coughing often? I heard you cough a moment ago." He placed his fingertips loosely on Noctis' throat, watching as he lifted his head to make Ignis' access a little bit easier.

While Ignis examined Noctis, Prompto took the chance and answered for him. "Yeah. The first time it happened, he passed out. The second time, he collapsed," he explained.

The frown that spread across Noctis' face then made Prompto feel guilty for being the one who had to say that, but it was too late now. Ignis' frown deepened. "Make sure that you take those every two hours, okay? A little early is okay," he added. "The parasite isn't incubated yet, but too many missed doses can be a critical error. You won't progress any further as long as you take the pills, and even if you miss a dose or two here or there, you shouldn't be in too much danger, as long as it doesn't take us more than a week to get to Gralea. Which it absolutely should not. If we can get to Altissia, I can phone in a favor and get us a chopper posthaste."

Honestly, the way he was talking was making Prompto worry even more. It didn't sound urgently fatal, but that didn't mean that it wasn't worthy of panic. Noctis _did_ look visibly paler, and his eyes didn't sparkle the same way as they always did; the same way that always took Prompto's breath away.

In a voice that was probably more pathetic than Prompto wanted it to be, he looked at Ignis and asked, "we'll save him, right?"

Ignis seemed completely and totally positive, when he stepped away from Noctis and placed a hand on each of Prompto's shoulders. "We will. I promise you, okay? We'll get him to Gralea, if it's the last thing I do. Saving Gladio and Noctis is the most important thing to me right now, before we even consider taking the fight to Star." His tone was level, serious, not leaving much room for Prompto to worry. Ignis seemed like someone who, when he made a promise, kept it.

Prompto nodded, smiling and then turning to glance at Noctis, who was looking back at him with a halfhearted smile on his face. It was hard, seeing him like this, but Prompto still thought he was amazing; still thought he was beautiful even if he wasn't _exactly_ as perfect as he always was. Before he let himself get too caught up in that, he turned to look back over at Aranea, who had moved a little bit closer to the gondola. "So, what's the deal with this thing?" she asked, looking at it and then making a face. "It looks totally busted. Not to mention rusty and like it'll break into pieces when we try and cross it."

Huffing a humorless laugh, Gladio nodded his head. "Yeah, we were thinkin' that, too," he admitted as he followed behind her, stopping in front of the generator.

"It's broken, for the moment," Ignis explained. "We looked it over while we were waiting for the lot of you to get here. It has gasoline, and it also has oil and everything that it _needs_ to run, except it seems to be missing a pair of gears that hold a belt in place, and the belt itself is close to rotting. We looked around while we waited, but we couldn't see any sign of them."

Aranea grunted an unimpressed note. "Of course. Nothing can ever be easy, can it?" she asked, walking toward the generator and looking it over. "This thing looks like it's on its last legs, too. We sure there's no other way for us to get across?" Her expression was uncertain as she turned to look back at Ignis and Gladio.

Pulling a map out, Ignis shook his head no. "The whole chasm is on this map," he explained, walking up next to Aranea and displaying the map to her. "I don't see any bridge, or anything else, really, other than the end of the chasm. We could go around, but I feel like that would be reasonably counterproductive, as it may take us days, and-"

Gladio stepped forward, _really_ close to Ignis, and nodded. "Yeah. No way we're doin' that with Noct in the shape he's in, anyway. Plus, I don't see any of Old Man Sophair's safehouses over there, and we're eventually gonna need to sleep." He glanced over Ignis' shoulder at the map, and it didn't escape Prompto's notice that he was standing a little bit closer than usual. His chest was practically pressed against Ignis' back, and there was absolutely no shame in how he practically brushed his cheek against Ignis' as he looked.

The grin on Aranea's face was obvious, and that cemented it a little more. There was _something_ going on between those two. Gladio worked... fast. He'd always worked pretty fast, though. "So, going around the chasm is out," she agreed. "And if there's nowhere else we can go, I guess that means we're using this rickety piece of shit." She looked up, then across the wires that held the gondola cars in place.

Prompto's gaze followed hers. Rickety was _not_ an understatement. "Why do we even need to go over there, anyway? Is there something important? 'Cause if you can call us a chopper in Altissia, then we just need to get outta town, because Gladio and me have bikes. Noct and Aranea can ride with me, Ignis can ride with Gladio, and we can just be done with-"

"No," Gladio cut him off. "No, um... we've gotta hit the guard house. We heard someone sayin' that there's something there, and we... we gotta check it out." His tone was panicked for some reason. Like Prompto had never heard him before.

When he finished, Ignis' expression changed to one of gratitude as he glanced over his shoulder at Gladio. "Besides that," he added, "there's an alternate path outside of town that doesn't involve going through any woodland areas, and it would be significantly easier for us to get to where your ATVs are outside of town from there." He turned to glance at Prompto with a gentle smile.

Noctis nodded. "That's fine," he agreed. "That still leaves us with a problem, though. How are we gonna get across if the gondola generator is missing those parts?"

With a thoughtful hum, Aranea glanced at her own map. "There's a shed about a half-mile to the north." She pointed north, the opposite direction from the chasm. "All five of us together should have no problem getting there, taking whatever's inside, and then getting back in one piece." Inquisitive eyes turned to look out across the group, and she quirked her head to the side in a shrug.

Gladio turned his head in the direction Aranea pointed, like he'd somehow be able to see to the place, even with the forest in the way. He glanced back out around the group of them, then nodded his head. "I think that's our best bet. It's either that or backtrack all the way to the last safehouse you guys were at, and that looks like it's twice as far."

"Dangerous, too," Noctis added. "Prompto told you about the crows over that way, right? We only left the place again because the crows thought we left." He glanced at Prompto, and Prompto could almost see the guilt in his eyes. He still didn't like the way Prompto had taken the heat from the crows for him, that much was obvious.

Yeah, Prompto felt for him. But there was no way in _hell_ that Prompto was going to let the crows dive bomb him like that. The birds were vicious, probably infected with the parasite, and Prompto didn't want to take the chance that one of them would make Noctis' infection spread faster. Even now that he had those pills, Prompto _still_ didn't want to take that chance. He didn't have any adverse effects; no crawling feeling that Noctis talked about, none of that. It had him wondering if, maybe, the weird powers he had somehow made him immune to the parasite. Useful, but freaky at the same time.

As the group of them started off toward the shed, Prompto found himself thinking back to what Ulldor called him. Patient Zero. To most people, it wouldn't really have registered one way or another, probably. Even Prompto wanted to pass it off as a psych out technique. Maybe Ulldor had been trying to get into his head or something; make him feel like there was something wrong with him and throw him off his game. Given the fact that he was the only one in the world he knew with this particular skill set, though? Prompto had a feeling that it wasn't that simple. Patient Zero. What did it mean?

While Gladio and Aranea talked to Noctis, Ignis seemed to be walking on his own a few steps ahead of the others. The guy seemed to know a lot about the parasite. At least enough to be able to figure out how bad Noctis' infection rate was, and how much time he could take between doses of the pills. The fact that he even had the pills to _begin_ with told Prompto that he had _some_ level of knowledge about the parasite. Did that mean that there was a chance that he knew about Prompto's origins? About what 'Patient Zero' meant?

Picking up his step to a jog, Prompto passed by the others. He flashed a wave to Noctis when his best friend smiled at him, then hurried a little more to catch up to Ignis. He stopped next to the man, turning his head to the side and saying, "so, you know a lot about the Scourge, don't you?"

Ignis blinked, turning his head toward Prompto with a panicked expression on his face. He looked worried, almost. Like he'd been caught somehow or something, and when he answered, "what gives you that idea?" in a whispering tone, that concern only multiplied.

Maybe Prompto had gotten the wrong idea. Still, the way he'd checked all of Noctis' vital signs before determining all of those things... that could only mean that he knew. Right? Prompto shook off his doubt. If Gladio trusted him, that was enough for Prompto. "I mean... the way you helped Noct, for one. And the way you just had those pills handy. Doesn't seem like something the Lucian government would have. So..." He trailed off.

With a single nod, Ignis' expression changed. He still looked slightly concerned, but he also looked a little bit relieved as he turned to look at Prompto. "Indeed. I know a little bit about the parasite. What do you need to know?"

"It's, um... it's not about the parasite," Prompto confessed. "It's about me. If you know so much about the parasite, I was wondering if there's any chance that you might know something about me, too." He glanced down at himself, at his dirty and bloody clothes, and then turned to look back at Ignis.

Ignis seemed less surprised about the question than Prompto expected him to be. He glanced over at Prompto for a couple of seconds, before finally asking, "about you?" with an eyebrow quirked.

"Gladio didn't tell you?" Prompto asked. "About my circumstance, I mean? I-"

Heaving a soft sigh, Ignis looked Prompto over again and nodded his head yes. "He did tell me. Though..." A moment of hesitance crossed the man's face, and he looked back at Gladio, Noctis, and Aranea, before turning to glance back at Prompto with a sigh. "He wouldn't have had to, truly. I would have known anyway." For a couple of seconds, he went quiet, before he glanced at the path before them. "It would likely behoove me to tell you that I know much about all of you. I've been in Insomnia for a very long time, Prompto. Enough to know plenty about all of you." Again, his expression changed. This time, it changed to embarrassment, as he glanced down at the ground ahead of them as they walked.

That had Prompto a little bit confused. He arched an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side and trying to watch Ignis' expression for any more changes. "What do you mean, to know plenty about us?" he asked.

At that moment, Gladio appeared on Ignis' other side and interjected with a one-shouldered shrug. "Iggy's one of Noct's dad's agents, Prompto. He knows a lot about all of us." He looked from Prompto to Ignis, and then back to Prompto. "He's sort of... he's been around us for a long time, but not allowed to talk to us. 'Cause of some security whatever. You know, like how we're not allowed to talk about our missions with people outside of who'd already know? It's like that for him, except he's not allowed to talk about it with anyone."

"Then why do you know?" Prompto asked. "And why did Aranea?"

Ignis huffed a soft breath of laughter, before turning to glance at Aranea. "Well, I hired Aranea. I couldn't very well hire her without telling her the details. As for Gladio..." A tiny, sheepish smile crossed his face again after he turned his head to look at Gladio again. "I guess I just wanted him to trust me. Much like I want you to trust me right now. I care a great deal about all of you, Prompto. I do not wish for anything to happen to any of you. Any of _us_." His smile softened even more, and he looked at Prompto, hoping that was enough for him.

It was. With a nod, Prompto shrugged his head to the side again. "That's good enough for me, then. I just... wasn't sure, y'know? Didn't want to-"

Nodding his understanding, and then placing a hand on Prompto's shoulder, Ignis smiled. "I understand. I'm genuinely glad that you had questions. Far more questions than Gladio had, if we're being entirely honest." He nodded his head to the side, in Gladio's direction.

When Gladio went sheepish, and actually kind of _blushed_ , Prompto started getting a better idea of what was happening. They really _were_ interested in each other. They might have already _done_ something. His mouth started hanging open, then formed into an even bigger grin. That was... hilarious. Really hilarious. And he was going to give Gladio _hell_ for it, in revenge for all the times that Gladio had given _Prompto_ hell for being in love with Noctis.

Except, before he could even open his mouth to say anything about it, Ignis spoke up and gathered his attention. "To answer your question, Prompto, I do know a very limited bit about your situation. About your condition. I know that you were... that you are-"

The very second that Ignis was about to answer, however, a familiar sound echoed out from nearby. A motorcycle's engine. Prompto's eyes shot open like a pull curtain, and he tried to follow the noise, but in the open space where they walked, it was damn near impossible. Almost as impossible as the fact that he was hearing the motorcycle to begin with. When Prompto looked, though... it _was_ the same. The same motorcycle and it was coming on _way too fast_.

Prompto rushed, using his speed to his advantage, to get to where Noctis stood next to Aranea, shoving Aranea out of the way and wrapping the other arm around Noctis. He pulled Noctis out of the way of the motorcycle just before the crazy man reached them. Of course, when it turned out that the motorcyclist wasn't going to hit Noctis or Aranea to _begin_ with, he felt a little foolish, but he felt much better knowing that he'd ensured that the driver had no chance. He stood, reaching his hand down and helping Noctis get back to his feet, and then positioned himself between Noctis and the motorcycle's new path.

Behind him, Aranea pulled herself to the ground, huffing. "Sure," she muttered, "help Prince Charmless up from the ground but don't even bother offering _me_ a hand." Her voice was sarcastic, and Prompto could tell that she wasn't serious, or actually angry, but he didn't allow himself to focus on the joke right then, either. They had bigger problems.

"Who in the _seven hells_ is that?" Ignis asked.

With a huff, Aranea murmured, "trouble."

Gladio barked a laugh that held no humor whatsoever. "No shit, 'Nea. Was hopin' for a more useful description." He immediately reached for his shotgun, even without the description that he was hoping for.

Everyone else reached for their weapons, too. Ignis ignored his crossbow, instead opting for the sniper rifle on the opposite side. "Talk later. Be alert," he told them, raising the sniper rifle and trying to get a good shot lined up.

The engine revved again, and everyone sort of fanned out. Prompto cursed under his breath when Noctis started following their lead, reaching a hand out and tugging Noctis back behind him. "Not you, okay? He's gonna go right for you, and I need you to stay behind me so he has to go through me to _get_ to you."

Again, the look on Noctis' face showed that he hated it just as much as Prompto hated the idea of any harm coming to Noctis. He understood. Putting himself in Noctis' shoes, he'd hate it, too. They'd just talked about it, though, and it looked like the talk had managed to resonate with Noctis, because he just nodded and stayed behind Prompto. He was still ready—his machine gun was out and ready to attack when the situation called for it—which was _also_ good. It was times like this when Prompto was extremely grateful that this wasn't like in the movies, when the royal charge was useless dead weight. Noctis was anything but.

Just as the cyclist started their return pass, a loud shot rang out around them from Ignis' sniper rifle. The engine's revving stopped abruptly, and Prompto watched as the motorcycle's headlight swung around, before impacting with a tree.

"He's out. I killed him-"

Aranea shook her head, though. "Don't be so sure," she insisted. "We thought we'd taken him out, too. He's Scourged, Iggy."

Laughing a humorless note, Ignis nodded his head once. "Of course. I can't believe I didn't think of that myself," he muttered. "Ulldor?" The question was directed at Aranea.

Noctis was the one who answered, though. "If it's the same guy who attacked us before, yeah," he explained.

Ulldor. Prompto narrowed his eyes in the direction of the spun-out motorcycle, and, sure enough, the driver rushed at them at the same speed Ulldor had used before. As soon as he came into vision, Prompto realized that he was right. It was Ulldor. Shit. Shit, this was _bad_. Every single person started firing. Noctis even stepped out from behind Prompto, firing a whole clip at the man. Despite the _hail_ of bullets hitting the psycho, he still advanced, though. Prompto figured that if someone had to be the sacrificial lamb, it probably should have been him.

Despite the gunfire, he rushed forward through it. He felt a couple wayward shots graze him, and one actually went _into_ his thigh, but even though he stumbled, he didn't stop. Even as the rest of the group realized what was happening and started to slow their fire, Prompto didn't stop. Even as Noctis shouted for him to stop, Prompto didn't stop. Not until he was right in front of Ulldor. Hauling back when he got within fighting distance, while Ulldor was still staggered from the rain of bullets that hit him, Prompto spun on the leg that _didn't_ have a bullet in it and roundhouse kicked Ulldor in the head. It staggered him, and Prompto reached to his hip, grabbing his knife and jamming it into Ulldor's rib cage.

"Leave us _alone_!" Prompto seethed. "You aren't taking Noct with you, I don't care what orders you have. I _will_ stop you. We'll find a way to _end_ you."

The man pulled his fist back, punching Prompto in the face, then raised his knee, jamming it into Prompto's thigh where the bullet still rested, knocking him to the ground. "Oh, Patient Zero. You know, you think that just because you can heal, you're completely invulnerable. You're not. Not even a little bit. You still bleed, and you can _still_ be knocked unconscious, just like _normal_ people can. Let's see how your precious _friends_ do without you. Don't worry. I'll take good care of the prince."

Without hesitation, Ulldor lifted his foot, before slamming it down on Prompto's head and sending him over the edge into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What... you thought I'd let things be nice? :D
> 
> Toward the end of the month, I may miss a week or so because of Nano! Hopefully, it won't be too long!


	18. Outfox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm currently in the midst of a pretty annoying writer's block (and since Halloween is right around the corner), I decided there was no better time than the present to share the last three chapters I have written for this!
> 
> If the response is good enough, maybe I'll return to it for Halloween 2018!

Things were rapidly going from bad to worse to even worse. Not a single shot that any of them fired seemed to have any effect whatsoever on Ulldor as the man stepped over Prompto's unconscious form and closed in on Noctis. Ignis aimed his rifle at the man's head and fired. He watched the bullet impact and fly through the man's skull, coming out the other side and breezing into a tree. That should have been enough to kill him. That was enough to kill _anyone_ , realistically. Ulldor, though, merely turned to look at Ignis with his eyes narrowed, laugh, and then continue his advance as his flesh healed and the wound closed.

Fortunately, at the very least, it bought Noctis some time to put a little bit of distance between himself and Ulldor. Noctis ran, Ulldor started running, too, and the only one with any chance whatsoever to catch him on foot was hazily picking himself up from the ground. Prompto was very obviously not up to his normal standard. It made sense. Quick healing didn't really do much in regards to a concussion, and having his head stomped on had to have left _some_ kind of concussive symptoms behind.

Even so, Prompto was trying with all the effort he had in him to pick himself up from the ground. It wasn't quick enough, though. Ulldor was rapidly closing in on Noctis—not using his full speed, though; almost like he was toying with them because of his speed advantage—and if someone didn't do something quickly, he would be in trouble.

Ignis watched with eyes wide as Aranea threw her assault rifle to the side and charged up to Ulldor as quickly as she could, pummeling him to the ground. It gave Noctis the chance to increase the distance between himself and Ulldor, and Ignis watched as the prince ducked into a small shed. Not the one they were looking for, and not the wisest decision, either, because the very second Ulldor was awake again, he'd give chase. That meant that the group of them had to do something quickly, or else this could very well be the end of their mission. Ignis turned to Gladio.

"Go and check on Prompto," he commanded.

Maybe it wasn't really his place to give orders, but it didn't seem like Gladio really took issue with the suggestion. He closed the short distance between himself and his partner, and before Ignis turned away, he saw Gladio kneeling down in the grass and trying to slowly and easily ease Prompto into a seated position. Ignis puffed out a breath and turned toward Aranea, who was delivering a flurry of furious punches to Ulldor's face as she straddled his stomach. The onslaught only lasted a couple more seconds, though, before Ulldor finally seemed to gather himself. He reached up, deflecting a pair of punches that Aranea delivered with ease, and then put a hand on her throat.

Before Ignis could even react, Ulldor had tossed Aranea aside like a rag doll, knocking her into a tree and sending her to the ground, unconscious. Ignis hissed. Okay, this was bad. This was really bad. He looked around frantically for any sort of advantage that he could use to get to Noctis before Ulldor did. And that was when it hit him. In one hand, he took his hookshot, in the other, an incendiary grenade.

Acting more on instinct than anything else, Ignis raised his hookshot and fired at Ulldor's back.

The hookshot impacted, the grapple digging into the man's flesh and causing him to buckle with a shout. "What in Ifrit's-"

Ignis didn't even let him finish that sentence. He retracted the rope on his hookshot, while using his teeth to pull the pin on the grenade but holding the trigger down with his thumb. He finally reached Ulldor, kicking him down to the ground with the impact. Before the man had a chance to recover, Ignis holstered his hookshot and threw the grenade onto the man's back while he still lay on the ground.

A massive pillar of flame erupted from the grenade, and Ulldor's agonized cries reverberated, seeming to shake the area around them. They likely alerted any parasite-infested villagers in the area, Ignis realized.

"Gladio! Can you gather Prompto and Aranea and make for the shed? I will get Noctis and be behind you shortly!" he called out across the open space to Gladio, who looked like he wanted to protest.

No protest came, however. He nodded once, and then started escorting Prompto over toward where Aranea lay in a heap on the ground. Prompto was on his feet, which was good, but he wasn't walking steadily. He wobbled, stumbling slightly with every step, and Gladio had to brace him with an arm around his shoulders. When he reached Aranea, Ignis watched as he picked her up with ease, and started rushing the pair toward the shed the group was originally headed for. Good. That was good. Ignis turned, watching as Ulldor still writhed on the ground with the incendiary grenade still burning bright, and then rushed over to the small shed that Noctis had ducked into.

The door was unlocked, and the fire was waning, so Ignis knocked, announcing his presence with an, "it's Ignis, Noctis. Don't shoot," as he opened the door.

Noctis didn't shoot, but Ignis would almost have preferred being shot to what he saw on the other side of the door. Noctis was cowered in the corner, on his hands and knees and in an intense coughing fit. Ignis was endlessly glad that they'd managed to get him the pills when they had, because any longer and the parasite would have truly latched on. They'd already cut it far too close.

Moving slowly toward Noctis, who still coughed, Ignis placed a hand on his back and gathered a bottle of water from his pack. A spattering of blood littered the ground beneath Noctis, and Ignis' brows knit together. He wasn't going to die, but this was very, very inconvenient. It appeared that he couldn't really run without his breath making him cough, and he couldn't cough without blood.

"Noctis," Ignis started, as he uncapped the water bottle, "we need to rush to get out of here. Are you able to run?"

Noctis nodded his head, trying to straighten up and coughing again. "Y-yeah," he spoke, his voice raspy as a lifelong smoker's. "I have to." He tried to stand by bracing himself on the wall, but Ignis could see how much he was struggling.

This was bad. "Jump on my back, Noctis. I will carry you. And drink this." He offered Noctis the water bottle, then turned around. It wouldn't be easy. Ignis' crossbow and his rifle were crossed on his back, so it likely wouldn't be comfortable for either of them, but it was the fastest method.

As Noctis stepped forward, though, an idea occurred to Ignis and he turned back around, reaching a hand out to halt Noctis in his path. "On second thought, use this. It will get you there much faster," he told Noctis, gathering his hookshot from his thigh holster and offering it out to Noctis. "Go to the door and fire it into the distance, toward the shed. It will allow you to cross short distances without running. Just be wary that you do not _hit_ anything and hurt yourself."

"How do you-"

Ignis put Noctis' hand on it. "Fire it like a gun," he told the prince. "When you want to pull yourself along, trigger this and then it will pull you to safety." He paused, before adding, "and make sure you pull the hook back before you hit a tree. Be ready to land."

Noctis could only blink in return. Ignis laughed quietly and halfheartedly in spite of the situation. "It will be alright. I'll catch up to you. Just go," he insisted.

Only when Noctis obeyed, aiming and firing the hookshot off in the direction of the shed, did Ignis look around him. At first, he looked around the small shed for the belt they needed for the gondola—it was worth a look, after all—but when all he really found were old, rusted tools and things that looked like they'd been left to fall into disrepair for years, he turned to leave. All he ended up gathering to bring with him was a large coil of rope. If needed, it could get him down an incline in a hurry. He'd seen a rappelling rope in Gladio's pack, so now he had something for himself, too.

He put it into his pack as he left the shed, and then looked over at where Ulldor had been on fire.

The man was gone, and all that was left where he'd been before was a large scorch mark in the grass. Several bits of grass were still on fire, but Ignis didn't bother to put them out, mostly because he wasn't sure where Ulldor had gone. Wherever he was, though, he was likely very angry. Particularly at Ignis. Drautos absolutely knew about Ignis' 'mission,' but Ulldor tended to be less apprised to matters such as this, so it would come as absolutely no surprise to Ignis if Izunia had kept the man on the outside. That likely meant that Ulldor thought Ignis was simply being duplicitous.

A delicious bit of irony, how the only one who knew of Ignis' true intentions was the only one not apprised of Izunia's plan.

It was equal parts beneficial and unfortunate. Around Ulldor, he didn't need to hold back. However, if word got back to Izunia of exactly how _much_ he was helping the others, that would likely be very, very disadvantageous. This moment spent apart from them would be of slight benefit, if only because it allowed Ignis the chance to address Ulldor one on one if he reappeared. So far, as he turned toward the shed, he wasn't quite so lucky. The only sound he heard was the rustling of the grass beneath his feet, as well as the distant sound of a sabertooth howling into the night.

Breathing deeply, he picked up his step.

After two steps, a shot echoed out into the night, and a bullet very nearly clipped him in the thigh. As it stood, it only served to make him jump to attention and whirl around to see Ulldor standing several feet back. His pistol was aimed at Ignis, his eyes narrowed to slits on his face—which itself was charred black—as he growled, "I won't miss next time, Scientia."

"Ulldor. Surely you realize exactly what is going on here." In spite of his words, he raised his hands in mock surrender.

Ulldor's eyes were narrowed, as he adjusted his aim just slightly so that any shot he fired would hit Ignis right in the face. "Enlighten me. And it had better be good, or it will be the very last word you ever speak," he insisted, releasing the safety on his pistol.

Ignis used the advantage of his hands to remove his glasses. Tapping just slightly on a button that only he could see, he felt a tiny, harmless shock that told him that the sixty-second timer had started. His explanation would have to be quick, but that was fine. "I understand that this is difficult for your meager mind to comprehend, Ulldor, and I _also_ understand that Izunia is fully _aware_ of the meagerness of your mind, as he hasn't let you in on his little secrets. Your job has been left to Drautos and I. Perhaps you should take a little more care before attacking the very people he wishes to bring back to Gralea, hm?"

The man brandished his pistol, thrusting it forward in a threat, and Ignis turned his eyes, glancing back down at the timer. Thirty seconds. "What _exactly_ are you _talking_ about?" he snapped.

"My mission, Ulldor, is to bring the three Lucians back to Gralea, alive. You trying to kill Patient Zero and scaring the Lucian Prince so much that he retreated into a shed and nearly died because he couldn't breathe? It's reasonably counter-intuitive to the whole 'keeping them alive' bit, is it not?"

Ulldor hissed in annoyance. "I should kill you," he hissed.

 _Perhaps,_ Ignis thought. _But you won't get the chance._

The timer ticked down to five seconds, and Ignis released his glasses from his grip, using his arm to cover his eyes as a blindingly bright flash overtook the area. He heard a shot go off, but he wasn't dead or even really _hit_ , so in the confusion, he took off in the direction of the shed. He got to a wooded area, shrouding himself behind a group of trees so that Ulldor would have a slightly more difficult time finding him. As it stood, it ended up not being an issue. Ignis peered out from behind the tree where he hid, just in time to see the man throw a conniption fit, and then dash off toward the gondolas.

Finally, he allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief.

Taking off in the direction of the shed, Ignis reached up to rub his eyes. It was incredibly strange to be without his glasses. It had been far too long since he'd gone without them. Even now, his vision was passable, so he would be okay until he reached shelter. He had a pair of sunglasses in his pack for just such an occasion. They were a gift from Clarus Amicitia; specific to Ignis' prescription, built with infrared sensors, and a setting to turn them into binoculars. Truly, he considered them one of his prized possessions for personal reasons, so he opted to use them only when he absolutely needed to.

In the shelter. He could root through his pack once he got to the shelter. For now, he was still on high alert as he rushed through the woods. The change in his vision was affecting his equilibrium a little bit, and he almost crashed into a couple of trees and tripped over a few small roots, but he finally got within visual range of the shelter.

That was when he spotted Noctis.

It was probably a touch optimistic to think that Noctis would be able to get to the shelter completely unscathed using a tool that he didn't really know how to use. Especially in his current state. However, for him to be sprawled out on the ground with an obviously-broken nose and a large red mark that spanned the whole left side of his face? That wasn't expected at all.

 _Perhaps it should have been,_ Ignis berated himself.

Ignis pulled in a sharp breath and hurried up next to the prince, pressing his fingers to his wrist to check for a pulse. He was still alive, thank the Six. Still, Ignis was a little bit cautious, because he didn't really want to deal with Prompto's reaction to him returning with an unconscious and very battered Prince. In spite of that, Ignis crouched down and picked his hook shot up, hooking it to Noctis' belt. For now, it was better-served with Noctis. Ignis was at far less risk than Noctis was until Izunia became truly aware of his duplicity. With the hookshot in place, Ignis placed a hand behind Noctis' neck and one beneath his knees, lifting him gingerly from the ground and hurrying toward the shed.

Before it even came into sight, he saw Prompto rushing out, with Gladio a couple of steps behind him calling for him not to rush.

Prompto's steps were staggering, and a little bit dazed, but he still kept a decent pace as he rushed to where Ignis carried Noctis. "Wh-what happened?" the blond asked, his voice shaking, revealing to Ignis exactly how dazed he still was.

"He had a little bit of an accident. He'll be alright. His pulse is still fine, he just has a broken nose and his face will likely bruise." Ignis went quiet afterward, watching as Prompto's brow furrowed in concern as he reached out to brush his fingers along the non-bruised part of Noctis' face.

Honestly, Ignis would have to be a fool not to see the obvious feelings between the two youngest in the group. Noctis and Prompto had always been inseparable, ever since they were schoolboys. They'd hidden their feelings for so long and so adeptly—at least from one another—that it was a little bit ridiculous. Everyone around them could see it. Even the King was fully aware that the kingdom would likely have a King and a Consort, rather than a King and Queen when Noctis took the throne. Ignis was an avid supporter of the pairing, if he was being entirely honest. Noctis had always seemed less tense, less sad, around Prompto. Prompto was always a little bit less guarded around Noctis. It was a give and take relationship; truly even and equal. If Ignis was asked for an opinion, he would readily tell anyone that there was no better bodyguard, and no better significant other, for the prince than his best friend.

With that in mind, Ignis softened his gaze and told Prompto, "he'll be okay. We just need to get him to safety, Prompto. Okay? So we can tend to his wounds and then tend to yours. And Aranea's as well."

Prompto shrugged his head. "M'fine. Can't really get wounds. Just... take care of Noct, okay?" he insisted, looking up at Ignis in a silent plea.

There it was, all the proof that Ignis needed that Prompto was truly and completely head over heels for Noctis. Prompto was obviously dazed, a little bit more than he was probably used to being, so he was _definitely_ uncomfortable. Yet, his priority was still Noctis. His priority would probably always be Noctis. Ignis followed the others into the shed, where they had Aranea resting against a wall. The woman was still unconscious, and Ignis wandered over to her side for a moment, before crouching down to take her pulse. Still completely fine. Nothing _appeared_ to be out of place. The throw, the impact, had likely only dazed her.

She would likely have a little bit of bruising on her back, but other than that, she would be okay.

Ignis called Gladio over. "Can you help me?" he asked. "I need you to hold Aranea up so that I can apply a numbing agent to her back and then wrap it."

With a nod, Gladio carefully lifted Aranea from the wall, while Ignis slowly worked her coat and shirt off. It was a little bit odd, and she would probably be a little bit annoyed when she woke up, but it was necessary. Still, Ignis worked as quickly as he possibly could to apply the numbing agent—a salve that would take her pain away as long as she kept applying it, and allow her to stay in the fight—and wrapping her back up in gauze. He pulled her shirt back on after that, and set her coat over her like a blanket. Ulwaat may not have been inherently cold, but its nights were a little bit chilly.

Quickly, his attention went to Prompto and Noctis.

Prompto was laying on the floor next to Noctis, erring dangerously close to sleep, and Ignis rushed over to their sides. "No, no. Come now, you can't go to sleep, Prompto. You have a concussion, okay? If you go to sleep-"

Well, would he die? Ignis honestly didn't know. His healing factor made answers like that very difficult to find. He wasn't immune to concussions, that much was very obvious, but the effects of them—consciousness troubles and everything that went along with them—might not have fallen under that category. Ignis was a little bit worried about the answer, and this really wasn't the place to find out.

With that in mind, he turned to Gladio. "Keep Prompto awake, please."

"This is really weird," Gladio remarked. "The kid's usually not out of it for this long. You think Ulldor did somethin' to him?" He was looking Prompto over.

Prompto shook his head when Gladio sat him up. "Didn' do anythin' to me. Just knocked me out. I c'n still get knocked out. Happened a lot when I'd try'n jump off roofs back when I was tryin' to find the limit of my abilities." It was obvious that his head was a bit of a mess. Not emotionally—though Ignis wouldn't have been terribly surprised if that was true, too—but physically.

Huffing a humorless laugh, Gladio splashed his face gently with some of the water from the water bottle he had in his pack. "Well. You know not to sleep right now then, right kid?"

The nod Prompto gave was very lazy. "Sleepy, though. Noct gets to sleep," he murmured.

Gladio laughed again, this time a little bit more humor in his tone. "Yeah, well. Noct's kinda unconscious. Not much we can do about that," he murmured. "You, though. You gotta stay awake, Prom. Don't you wanna be awake when Noct gets up so you can hear him tell you how he managed to get knocked out when he was already on his way outta the fight?"

Prompto laughed and nodded his head. "Noct. Got _Noct_ out," he laughed dizzily, then turned to look at his best friend. "Is'e gonna be okay, Iggy?"

As Ignis crouched over Noctis and looked at his nose, he heaved a little sigh. "I believe so. Though it's rather fortuitous that he's unconscious right now. It will make it significantly easier for me to check and see how badly his nose is broken." Even as he spoke, he reached down and felt the bridge of Noctis' nose. It was a simple break—as simple as breaks could possibly be, anyway—and would be just as simple to set. A little bit messy, probably, and it might jar Noctis from his unconscious state, but Ignis had to do it.

He took some of the salve that he'd just given to Aranea and rubbed it on the tip of his fingers—more than what he used on Aranea; enough to completely numb Noctis' nose—and applied it to the break. Then, in a quick motion, he pushed the broken cartilage back into place. Gladio didn't flinch, but Prompto did, reaching a fumbling hand down to grasp hold of one of Noctis' as though he was awake and would need the anchor. Sweet. The boy really was rather far gone.

Once Ignis had checked the bruising on Noctis' face for any more broken bones—he was pretty sure there was at least a _fracture_ on Noctis' cheekbone, which would just take time to heal—he was at least temporarily satisfied. Later, he would need to check for anything more serious that he couldn't detect at the moment, like fractures in his skull or more dangerous things that they couldn't see.

Ignis had to hope that there was none of that there.

As soon as Ignis moved away from Noctis, capped the numbing salve, and then heaved a sigh, Prompto wrenched himself from Gladio's grip and crawled over to Noctis, sitting next to him. The blond was still wobbly, but he was already showing marked improvement from even moments ago. His healing factor at work. He busied himself with worrying over the bruises on Noctis' face, his voice thick with concern as he smoothed his fingers through Noctis' hair.

"Betcha he wouldn't do that with a clear head," Gladio remarked as he stood, looking around the shed.

With a hum of gentle laughter, Ignis pulled himself to his feet and joined Gladio at the shelf he was searching. "One of the things I enjoyed about observing from a distance for all those years, was the chance I had to watch as those two fell in love with each other," he admitted with a smile. "One would think that a situation like this would be enough to make them confess their feelings, but I suppose one would be incorrect, wouldn't they?" Glancing over his shoulder, he watched as Prompto talked softly to Noctis, lifting the unconscious boy's hand in his and likely trying to coax him back into consciousness with gentle words.

If only that would work. Noctis would just need a little bit of time. None of the cursory glimpses that Ignis had given him had shown anything to keep him unconscious for long... unless it was something more serious. Ignis disallowed any further trailing down that train of thought. Now wasn't the time to worry about what ifs.

Gladio glanced over at him, a little smirk on his face. "Y'know. I like you with your glasses on, but I think you look pretty good without 'em, too," he murmured. "Where'd they go? Lose 'em in the escape?"

A breath of laughter was Ignis' initial response, and then he tilted his head to the side a little bit. "Sort of," he admitted. "This is going to sound extremely 'spy movie,' but my glasses were equipped with a self-destruct flash feature that I was forced to use to escape Ulldor back there." He raked his teeth over his lip and looked at Gladio anxiously. "I'm reasonably certain that Ulldor was intending to kill me, especially since he said as much and he tried to shoot me twice, but he failed to plan for the fact that I'm at least five times more intelligent than he is on his best day." It probably sounded cocky, but it was true.

As Gladio grinned, he extended a hand and placed it on the small of Ignis' back, pulling him a little bit closer. "Not givin' yourself enough credit, Igs," he insisted. "You're at least ten times smarter."

A flush rose to Ignis' cheeks, and he found himself leaning a little bit closer to Gladio. "Yes, well, I didn't wish to boast," he admitted as he turned to look at the shelf. They should really have been looking for that belt so that they could get out of here.

"Boast all you want," Gladio encouraged. "I think you've earned it, all the times you've saved our sorry asses."

Ignis smiled shyly. "Perhaps. I don't expect recompense for that, however. It's equally as much for my benefit as it is for yours." He turned his head from the shelf to look at Gladio, examining his face. It was partially because Ignis thought he was the most beautiful man that he'd ever seen, but it was _also_ partially because he was checking for any advancement in the parasite. So far, the pills were doing their jobs.

Just as he was about to turn back, though, Gladio leaned in and caught his lips in an eager kiss. "You're amazin'. Feel like someone needs to tell you that, 'cause you're the most selfless person I've ever met in my life. Brave as hell. Goin' up against a group of people you hate just to protect people you'd never spoken to before," he murmured as he pressed a kiss to Ignis' jaw.

"Oh Shiva's sweet _ass_ , not you guys, too!" A familiar voice came from the other side of the room, where they had left Aranea.

Instantly, a second, deeper, flush rushed to Ignis' cheeks and he turned to look at Aranea, where she was gingerly lifting herself from the floor. "Shit. That son of a bitch is gonna get it next time I see him," she hissed under her breath. "Seriously, though. Don't tell me the pair of you joined the stupid love fest. I guess you're at least willing to _do_ something about it, unlike the stupid teen romance movie that's unfolding over there." She gestured broadly toward Prompto and Noctis.

"The hell happened to Prince Charmless over there?" she asked, but even as she did, she placed a hand on her back and then hissed through her teeth again. "Fuck."

It didn't seem like Gladio was fazed by her teasing, because he just pulled Ignis a little bit closer and shrugged his head to one side. "Not sure, actually. Igs?"

Ignis turned to glance at Noctis with a little, humorless, chuckle. "Noctis, ah... I think he had a bit of a run-in with a tree on the way here. I let him use my hookshot to escape quicker, and I realize now that it may not have been the wisest decision, but since he couldn't run quickly, and it was just the two of us against Ulldor, he needed to-"

With a nod, Aranea approached them and started checking another shelf for what they were looking for. "Quick thinking," she complimented Ignis.

Gladio nodded and muttered, "told you. Don't give yourself enough credit," as he finally released Ignis. Even as he stepped away, he had a little smirk on his face like he was satisfied with Aranea's commentary.

Chuckling, Aranea nodded. "Yeah, Luna and I have been telling him that for years. I think he needs a little bit more job praise, personally. Maybe you should tell the Prince of Darkness to talk to his old man about making sure his hard-working spies are appreciated." She stepped over to another shelf, and then within a couple of seconds, turned back toward them. "Got our belt," she announced.

"Good," Gladio answered, reaching for it and looking it over. "Looks like it's in pretty decent condition, too."

Aranea nodded. "Better than the gondola itself, at least. We gotta be careful on the way over there. Can't overload 'em," she explained, trying to stretch her back and then wincing. "I really can't wait to wreck Ulldor's fucking day. Gonna need to go to the hospital when we get back to Lucis." She paused, pressing a hand to her stomach and then glanced up at Ignis and Gladio. "Take it this was your doing," she told them.

With a nod, Ignis reached into his pack, pulling out one of his two tubes of numbing salve. "I've two of these," he told her, bringing one over to Aranea. "If you'd like one-"

She shook her head. "Gonna need one of you ass-hats to put it on for me anyway," she murmured as she waved off the offer, and then walked back over to where she'd been sitting when she woke up. "Gonna call Cindy. She'll want updates anyway. You guys better not fuck in here or anything. I'm serious," she told them with an annoyed tone in her voice.

After exchanging an amused look with Gladio, Ignis shook his head no. "We won't."

The pair of them walked over to where Prompto still hovered over Noctis, waiting for him to wake up. They stood a couple of feet away—giving the two younger men their privacy—and then Ignis turned to Gladio. When their eyes met, Gladio reached over and took Ignis' hand, squeezing it gently. Neither of them said anything, really, but neither of them needed to. They had what they needed to get the gondola running, to get over to the other side of the chasm. Once they were there, they had everything they needed to get to Gralea. All they needed for this new leg of their mission to start was a conscious Prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been considering returning to this for a little while now!~
> 
> For now, I'll post a chapter a week for the next three weeks, until I clear up everything I have in my Google Docs! Hope you guys enjoy!


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